The Smallest Piece
by Ripper101
Summary: Jareth made a promise to the girl he can never forget. It requires him to do a lot of things for her little brother... Toby wishes he wouldn't do them. slash.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the 'Labyrinth', its characters or its main premise. I mean no evil intent with this story.

Story Type: Slash

Author's Note: I couldn't resist! This came to me and I just had to write it down. The characters may seem the same, but I swear there will be changes. You'll see once the story really gets going.

Author's Note 2: The same warnings still hold good for SLASH. By all means take a shot at reading it even if you don't like slash. I won't burst into tears if you flame me for it. It's sometimes nice to get pointless, petulant, usually stupid diatribes from people who make it their life's work to be intolerant. Either that or my story really sucks.

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"You must come with me now," Jareth said urgently, "It is imperative. There is no time left."

"I- I can't. My parents…"

"Are dead," the Goblin King said firmly. For all his soft tones, he drew the line at coddling the boy. It was not a part of the deal. He had held to his promise to protect Toby Williams and he was fully prepared to see that through. Sitting in the dirt with him beside the tangled wreckage of what had been the family car was not a part of that promise.

"Dead?" The boy looked up and then looked down again fearfully, to the hand that he was clutching convulsively. "No… no, you have to help them. They're fine! They really are, and they'll get better. Just- just help me get them… out…" He tugged futilely on the arm and shoulder. His father's arm and shoulder.

Jareth wasn't quite heartless and he winced as he saw the arm twist in a way it shouldn't be able to, even in death. He stiffened and half-turned as the sound of a police siren made its way towards him. He turned back hurriedly and grabbed the child, hauling him away.

"Come with me now," he said again, "There is nothing for you here. I can take you away from this. You will have another life."

"But… my dad…"

"Is dead, as is your mother. Your sister died two years ago and I know that as well. Where will you live?" He shook him slightly, willing to scare him to influencing his decision. "Who will have you now?"

"I- I don't know. I don't know!"

"Come with me. I will take care of you." The hands gentled. The Goblin King could be very persuasive when he needed to be. "You will be cared for. I will show you things that will astonish you. You will see magic and wondrous things."

The child looked behind, tearing away from that hypnotic gaze.

Jareth stifled a groan of frustration. Didn't the stupid boy understand? His parents were dead. He would have been dead too if the Goblin King had not forcibly ripped him from the car before it skidded on the ice. But he could not take anyone unless they were sent, either by their own wishes or by another's. Someone had to wish and if Toby didn't hurry and make his, he would be cut off without any connection to him. He would have failed Sarah. His promise to her dying spirit…

"It is a choice you must make, Toby- now or never. Give me your answer."

"Who are you?"

"The Goblin King."

A gulp and the child tried to draw back only to be trapped by those strong hands. "Sarah told me not to talk to you. She said…"

"Sarah," Jareth interrupted, "Asked me to protect you."

"She died," Toby snapped. His eyes dropped to the icy road and he shivered. It was so cold and he'd left his jacket in the car. With his parents' bodies. He shivered again, this time in shock as his mind shied away from that vision. Twisted bodies, he could see the flash in his head, hear the crushing smash, his mother's cry and his father's shout. He could feel the dragging pull of something getting him out of there. "I hate her."

The Goblin King's face hardened. With anyone else in a less delicate situation he would have hit them for that. She'd never had the time of day for him, but he'd loved her. Desperately. He'd been the only one there as the sleeping pills took hold and he'd begged her to wish herself to his realm so he could heal her. He'd begged! On his knees with his eyes leaking tears! Instead she'd wished that he'd personally protect the little brat standing before him now.

"Your sister," he said quietly, "Loved you very much. And if you come away with me, I can keep my promise to her. I don't care whether you live or die, you annoying little rodent, but I will see her memory honoured."

Anger, furious anger snapping and crackling in every word and what else was a terrified nine year old to do? "I'll- I'll come with you. I swear. Just don't hurt me."

"Was that a yes, Toby?"

"Y- yeah."

"Good!" The Goblin King whisked them away, spotting the far-away buzz of red and blue swirling lights as the police moved too close for comfort. He had just managed it in time.

They landed by the doors of his Castle and he allowed Toby to pull away, still bundled up in his warm clothes and fighting to hold back startled tears. His guards jumped to attention and the doors were swung open instantly. He walked up the stairs and then stopped at the top, turning around to impatiently beckon his charge to follow him.

"Stay close," he warned shortly, "I have no time to look for you if you get lost. My Castle can be dangerous."

He summoned up a goblin that was bigger and cleaner than the rest and muttered to it some gruff language. The thing bowed and ran away, calling out something in the same words. Jareth shook his head and rolled his eyes but didn't seem to find it very surprising.

Toby was stunned. His legs moved on their own and his hands clung to the only familiar thing in such an unfamiliar world- his clothing. He tangled his fingers nervously in the hem of his sweater, baking in it but too scared to take it off. He didn't scare easily but he wanted his parents and he couldn't quite understand why he was being told that he couldn't have them any more. Add to that, he didn't know where he was!

"Sir, I- I don't know where we are," he said softly, trying to keep up with those long-legged strides.

"I do," came the implacable answer. "This is the way to my throne room. It's on the first floor, just beyond the reception hall. The reception hall is a formal area. Here."

He threw up the first door they came to and Toby gasped. It was magnificent. The ceilings were not limitless but they were high enough that a small, exquisite chandelier graced the middle. There was no panelling, no paving; it was just stone. The only bright spot was a long crimson carpet rolling up the middle, up a short flight of three shallow steps and then to a throne. The throne itself was carved of stone, seeming to be a part of the floor with no joint to show it was a separate piece.

The Goblin King was justifiably proud of the handsomeness of his residence, but to a child it seemed frightening and just a little too cold. Toby wanted his home, with his cluttered room and the garish delights of his toys and his books. He wanted the graceful patterned couches that his mom had been so proud of and the few scattered pieces of good crystal and china.

Jareth clicked his tongue and threw his hands up in defeat. He shouldn't have expected a mortal to feel the power and magnificence in the room. He led the way to a door constructed just before the platform with his throne, built into the left wall so discreetly that no one saw it unless they looked.

"This," he said tersely, "Is my throne room."

"But…" Toby looked confused and he turned to look behind him. He pointed his finger to the enormous stone throne in the other room. "But your throne is there."

"You would not understand," Jareth sighed, "Do not question. Just know this is my throne room and that is my reception hall. Remember that."

"Okay. What- what will I do here?"

"You will sit there. And don't move! I will return shortly."

Jareth strode out as suddenly as he had come in. Thank God he didn't need to get his goblins drunk this time. The last time Toby had been in his informal throne room, Jareth had had to work so the entire kingdom was off balance for Sarah's benefit. He'd wanted so much to let her win.

But there was no point dwelling on that any more. Sarah had chosen to die. There was nothing he could do. It seemed the morbidly dramatic part of her that he had craved so much had finally driven her too far. That was all.

Now, with her parents' death, he had only one small part of her left and he would jealously guard Toby Williams from death if only to believe that some sliver of her lived in while the boy did. Which was exactly why he had called for the person he had.

Lady Pandora was old, perhaps, but still perfectly capable. She tended to ill-health, but that was only another reason that Jareth deemed her the perfect person to care for his charge. Toby could keep an eye on the woman for him. He left orders with his servants that a tray of food was to be taken to the small child in his throne room and that when Lady Pandora was to arrive he was to be called from his study instantly.

He retreated to his study with a thankful sigh and sat down.

The picture on his desk caught his eye- just as it did every time he entered the room- and he picked it up, running a gentle hand over its surface. A few stray grains of dusk lifted off onto his black gloves and he frowned, repeating the action again to clean the glass surface. A very Aboveground thing to have on his desk, perhaps, but he hadn't been able to resist: the picture on Sarah's vanity, of her at happy fifteen, smiling and laughing at whoever was taking the photograph. Now he guarded it jealously.

It was six hours later that a goblin tapped tentatively on the door for admittance.

"The Lady Pandora 'as arrived," the goblin said, bowing twice just to make sure Jareth got the respect he demanded.

The Goblin King got up and stalked out without a word. It was a short trip down the stairs to his drawing room, to the right of his reception hall, and he didn't take his time with the task. The sooner it was over the better.

The woman who turned around at his entrance was as blond as him and just as arrogant if the slant of her jaw was to be believed. She didn't look best pleased to be where she was.

"Jareth, why was I asked to present myself?" she asked sharply.

In reply, the Goblin King smiled and bowed, a short, ironic little gesture. "Mother," he said gracefully, "Can a son not enjoy a visit by his only living parent?"

"Not if the son is you. What is it you want of me?"

"Come now. Anyone might imagine my presence irksome."

She softened and smiled a little, taking the gentle rebuke in the conciliatory spirit they were meant in. "Very well, Jareth. But you do know I have guests this week. It was most irregular for me to leave them alone as I have done."

He flicked the concern away with a negligent hand. "It won't matter. Your son needed you on a matter of some importance."

"Yes, yes, but what matter?" she demanded. Lady Pandora looked her son over and narrowed her eyes. "You haven't done something I am not going to like, have you?"

"Have I ever?"

"Yes. Quite frequently."

"But all with good reason."

"A good reason is never always enough for a bad course of action. What is it you need this time?"

"I have a child in my care and I would like you to take charge of him."

She blinked. "Pardon?"

Jareth sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "A child, mother. Will you take him off my hands? Turn him into a pageboy or something. He is only nine. When he is too old, keep him as a companion. Make him a stableboy. I don't really care. Just make sure he is healthy and content."

"A child? Are you mad? Has this hermit-like existence finally driven you insane? I am not taking on a child simply because you ask me."

"Why ever not?" Jareth snapped in his usual bad temper.

"Because one son was quite enough trouble, thank you," his mother shot back. Her eyes dared him coldly to take this outrage any further. Of all the ridiculous things, she had never imagined that even Jareth would think of tossing his illegal offspring into her keeping! It really was the limit!

Jareth growled and paced up and down. Why did this not surprise him? One favour! It was not much and his mother would, of course, balk like a malicious mare at the jump. "He is a nine year old mortal boy, mother, not capable of doing that much damage. He will be dead in sixty years or so; sooner, hopefully. At least keep him until his twentieth year. After that I can send him somewhere else."

"Jareth, I am not taking your child!"

"But why not?"

"Because you can clean up your own messes and leave me out of this! I do not want to know. How can you? Your own son!"

The Goblin King stopped in astonishment, his dark brows rising almost to his hairline. He stared incredulously at the woman before him for a full minute before bursting out into fell-fledged laughter at her delusions. It took him a while to calm down. "It- it is not my son," he finally managed, "His parents were killed and I took him away from there. He had no one left to raise him, you see."

"Oh dear, how were his parents killed?"

"Their car crashed. I managed to save the child. Toby Williams is his name."

"Williams… Williams… where have I heard that name before?" Pandora knew very well where she had heard that name before. She knew it from the moment it left his lips. No other name was ever pronounced in that same reverential way. It angered her, that situation in her son's recent past. "What have you done, Jareth?"

"I have done nothing!" He threw his hands up in an innocent gesture, "Sarah made me promise to protect the child. I happened to be watching as I saw the car spin out of control. I got there barely in time to get him out of the car. The parents I could not save. So he is here, in my care. Well, under my protection, but preferably in the care of someone who has time for children."

"I do not have the time. This obsession is unhealthy and you have dragged it around for two years." She made to leave. "Excuse me, but I have guests waiting for me. I will have no part in this."

A hand touched her shoulder as she brushed past the younger man. "At least look at him first."

Defeat swept through her. She couldn't refuse that much. She knew that Jareth had no time or inclination to bring up children. The line of the Goblin Kings did not work in that manner as it was. He was under no obligation to have heirs. And she knew that she could not leave any defenceless young boy here in the cold Castle with not a friend to call his own.

"All right," she sighed, "Where is he?"

The Goblin King led her there, to find Toby curled up in the sunken pit in the throne room, his head on his folded sweater, asleep. Tears tracks had dried on his cheeks and the food was sitting untouched beside the pit on the floor.

Pandora's heart broke. The youngster looked forlorn. She knelt on the floor beside the cushioned area and gentled stroked the blond hair back. He was flushed and exhausted, his breath still hitching just a little as a child's does when he has cried himself to sleep. She stood up and turned around, making sure to remember to keep her voice quiet.

"For someone who is so clever," she spat, "You are an idiot! He has just lost his parents and suffered the worst shock imaginable and you let him stay here alone? At least leave him with one of your serving women!" She tsked in the end and gave up. This was Jareth and much though she loved her son she had realized a long time ago that he simply didn't understand other people.

"Fool," she continued quietly, fingers quietly unbuttoning the thick shirt, "Heartless fool. Here! Come here and pick him up."

"I can't understand what you're so upset about," Jareth hissed back, "I saved the boy!"

"And then let him boil in his clothes! See how flushed he is. He must have been exhausted to fall asleep like this."

Jareth hefted the boy up and stiffened as the small figure almost woke up. A warm cheek pressed against his shoulder and two arms were thrown around his neck. Toby went back to sleep with a slight whimper. The Goblin King just looked his distaste.

"Bring him out to my carriage," Lady Pandora ordered, pointing imperiously to the door, "You obviously cannot be trusted to look after a child. I could swear I've told you to be more mindful of others around you. But you never learn! This is it, Jareth. I don't want to hear from you for another six months while I try to help this poor child to adjust to the life you have pushed him into."

"He chose this life!"

"Rubbish! A child in shock will say anything if someone is breathing down his neck and frightening him. I've seen _you_ do it."

"I have never been frightened to the point of making a decision I wanted no part of," Jareth growled. He tightened his hold and for all his mother's heaped accusations, he was very gentle at manoeuvring his way out to the carriage that waited at the entrance of his Castle, speaking and walking in such a way that his burden was not disturbed.

"That is true enough- you have always been too proud for your own good," Pandora replied bitterly, "Put him into the carriage, please."

Jareth obliged and then jumped back out, dusting off his hands as if the child had left residue on them. "Thank you, mother," he murmured, "If he does get too much, just let me know. I'll think of something to do with him."

"Like what?" she said scathingly. "You can do nothing to him here, my dear. You said it yourself- he came willingly. All those who do so cannot be touched by you. You have no power over him, and I'd thank you to remember that he is now under my protection. Step aside, please."

The Goblin King obliged and watched his mother drive away with annoyance but relief. At least the trouble would be worth it if he were not saddled with that brat.


	2. Home

Author's Note: Oh, it's so good to be back! You have no idea how lonesome I was without a story to write. And I'll admit here and now that this will be less intense than the 'Bond…' series and probably a lot shorter, but it's been itching in my head and I just had to write it. This time, there are to be a heap of new characters so watch out for them.

"Toby, could you come here, please?"

The young man looked up from the document he was faithfully copying and rolled his eyes. "In just a minute, my Lady. I'm almost done." He finished the last curliqued letter and put the pen down with a sigh. He snapped off the light on the desk and got up, stretching his lanky body before jogging to the other room.

The woman who looked up looked not a jot older than the day he had first met her. Her blue eyes were still as dark and her hair as blond. Her skin was still flawless and the few delicate lines around her eyes and mouth only served to enhance her allure. To the mortal boy she had sheltered, she was no more or less than his liege lady and his adopted mother.

"Come in, dear. Apparently my son requires our presence in two weeks' time. He specifically asks that you attend."

Toby stilled, surprise flickering over his face as he looked from that pleasantly droll expression to the card she held in her hands. It appeared that Lady Pandora had not been lying; the elusive Goblin King wanted to see him. Inspect him? See the effect of his charity to an orphaned mortal?

"I don't think I want to go," Toby said frankly.

The Lady patted the seat beside her and smiled sympathetically. "I know. But I won't let him bite you. And his bark is all just sound and fury, nothing much behind it. He is hardly an ogre."

"He might just as well be," Toby muttered, staring down at his hands. The left one bore a scar, gained when he'd been learning to fence. "I haven't seen him for years and suddenly he asks that I attend a… what am I attending?"

"A ball," Pandora supplied, "Toby, dear, it has been partly your fault. The last time he came to see us, you ran away."

He had the grace to look sheepish. "I went hunting, my Lady."

"Yes, so I was told. My son almost threw a fit for that."

"I am sorry."

"I can see."

The two smiled and then Toby shook his head with a sigh. "I'll be good this time. I'll have to meet him eventually so it might as well be in… a week?"

"Two," Pandora said, handing him the invitation, "And I believe this may concern what you are to do next. You are, after all, almost twenty-five. It is time you settled somewhere."

"I have," the man protested, "I have a home here. I can understand if you would like me gone, but you are so ill at times…"

A gentle hand smacked the back of his head to stop the flow of words. "You have a home here. Do not think of finishing that sentence." She watched with a mischievous smile as her charge rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, stop pouting. The ball won't be as bad as any you have attended here, though perhaps a lot less tasteful. Jareth does tend to be more flamboyant than elegant. Besides, I am certain Luke will be there."

The mortal perked up considerably. "He is a lord, isn't he. Jareth will invite him too?"

"Yes, naturally. The Goblin King would not dare to snub the son of his predecessor."

"I never have understood how the Kings are elected. Luke's father was the king before him, and Jareth was named when he died. All because of the Labyrinth?"

"Well, yes. The Labyrinth is the ruling power of the Underground. It chooses its King when it needs."

"Has it ever deposed anyone?" Toby asked expressively.

Pandora offered him a mock frown and a playful swat on the arm. "Jareth is my child, Toby. Do not insult him so."

The mortal was unrepentant and irrepressible. Always had been, and he didn't intend to change for someone he knew actually enjoyed the brief clashes. "Why not? You do. Just three weeks ago you said he was a wastrel and a worthless profligate. And what does profligate mean, anyway?"

"I knew you stopped studying far too early. My damnably easy nature- it is to be hoped you don't turn out a blockhead like my son. And profligate refers to a person dedicated to the pleasures and thrills of a sensuous life. Like Jareth."

"Uh-huh. And he does this from a cold and empty Castle in the Centre of the Labyrinth… how?"

"Oh, my dear." She touched his blond head and tweaked his nose. "Jareth doesn't have to do a thing! His friends and acquaintances do it for him. They throw the parties; they take him out. He presides over the land like some… well, like a leech, I suppose, sucking out all that everyone else has to offer."

The mortal winced. Even for the Lady, this was going too far. He was used to harsh words that fell from her lips on the subject of her only surviving offspring, but she steered clear of actual hatred. This was sounding very close to hatred. He hoped it wasn't so because he simply didn't believe it was possible for a woman so affectionate to hate her own child.

"I have offended you, my dear? That line of concentration between your eyes says you are frowning." A slightly veined, slightly wrinkled hand lifted his chin. "You _are_ frowning. What now?"

"A leech?" Toby repeated tellingly.

His chin was released. "Why not? He has called me an interfering old bat for years. It does not mean much between us. The truth is the truth, Toby, and Jareth feeds off other people's emotions to compensate for having none of his own. He likes it. It is how he has always lived."

"But why? There has to be a reason."

Pandora thought about that, turning the crimson-edged card over and over in her hands. "If there is a reason, I do not know it," she confessed at last, "But he delights in controversy, I think. If he has to be everything to everyone in this land, then he will make himself nothing but what they think him. He is… well, an enigma."

"An enigma… that's how Sarah described him."

He didn't hear Pandora drew her breath in sharply but he certainly knew she rose slowly to her feet.

"Has that document been finished? Franja will want to know that he has permission to begin restoring the town. Are you certain we have the funds?"

"Yeah. I arranged with the tradesmen to charge half the price if we do not charge to rebuild their stores. It seemed fair."

"Fair enough. We will break even. Excuse me, then, I think I'll go lie down for a while."

Toby got up too, unfolding from his seat to tower over the frail-looking woman. "Do you feel sick?" he asked anxiously, touching her shoulder and her forehead, "Does something hurt?"

"I am only tired, Toby, don't fuss!" She smacked his hand away and made for the door. "Really! Jareth orders me to and from his Castle at the least whim and you boss me around so my home is not my own; the Powers know how I survive _two_ such sons."

Toby gave a lopsided, sideways grin as he shook his head. He rolled down his sleeves and made his way back to the writing desk in the other room to get his papers. Breems the woodcutter was likely to demand his price upfront and Toby meant to reason things out with him.

'Two such sons', indeed! As if he were any part of the fae family whose powerful protection he enjoyed. No, Jareth might have been chosen by the Labyrinth to be a King, but his bloodline was as ancient and as regal as any monarch might need.

The noble-born chosen one of the Labyrinth, at the current time, was staring disapprovingly at the bedraggled reason for his rare decision to hold a ball. He only wished his mother would heed his threats and arrive a week in advance. This secret was going to leak out soon and he refused to tell the aging lady in any way but face-to-face.

"Jareth, you can forget about staring me into submission because I refuse to wear any clothing but my own," the young lady snapped. She folded her arms tight around herself and lowered her head, the raised hood hiding her face so that she looked a mysterious sight.

"You cannot," he said quietly, "Wear the garments of one of Gildred's lieutenants in my Castle. Not in my lands, and not while I am King, Jervahl. Take them off and wear the gown that Hessie gave you. If you don't like them, at least borrow a shirt and breeches from me to tide you over until I can order you new clothes."

He was very close to ordering the woman, but ordering never had worked with Jervahl. She was stubborn. He wondered afresh how that seething pride- so much a mark of their family- had allowed her to live under a master as totalitarian as the Black Knight.

"I am shorter than you, Jareth, and my body has a different flow to yours." She raised a grimly smiling face to his. "I do not think the Castle will recover from the sight of me in an open-fronted frilled shirt."

The Goblin King's lips twitched ever so gently, as if about to smile but not compulsively. He too folded his arms, but only so he could adopt his usual disinterested stance, completely at odds with the sombre gleam in his eyes. "You never did learn to listen to reason, little sister. It's why you were captured."

She trembled before him and he saw first hand the control she had learned over her tongue. She said not a word more to him, though her hazel eyes showed clearly every word she would have liked to say. He dropped his hands and walked away to a chair, turning his back so she would have time to recover.

"Take the cloak off," he compromised, "And you may wear the rest. After all, black is black and I'm sure I wear it often enough."

Jervahl's tense muscles slowly relaxed. Enough that she took a deep breath and spoke in a harsh, grating voice- "Allow me to buy and choose my own clothes, Jareth, and I will wear them as soon as they are ready. For now, I will change into any respectable blouse you can lend me. The trousers stay."

Mismatched eyes drifted down the perfectly sculpted legs in form-fitting black leggings. Not so different from what he wore, he knew. "Fine. Call Hessie and she shall see what can be arranged."


	3. Questions

Author's Note: I don't usually do this, but I really want to reccomend one of the most entertaining arcs I've read in a while. As some may notice, I've taken up a bit with 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. I really recommend anyone who likes 'Pirates' slash (Jack/Norrington), rock music and a beautifully structured alternate universe to go check out an author called **trinchardin** **and her Rocker Arc**. It's nowhere near as long as the 'Bond...' series, but it's spectacularly good writing. I hate the fact that no one but me's reviewed it.

Author's Note 2: One another point, things may seem disjointed here, but that is because we're focusing on two different locations and two different groups of people. But the next chapter should allow us to pull all these bits and pieces together. Enjoy.

**'blah' **is flashback.

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The two sat down to an early morning repast. It was a simple affair; neither of them were used to eating much- Jareth by choice and Jervohl by experience. But they each drank the milk and juice concoction usual for an Underground breakfast and crumbled whatever food there was on their plates.

The room was strangely silent.

Far too strangely silent.

Jareth didn't like it. He sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. "Jervohl, perhaps it is time to tell me what happened?"

"I would rather not."

"I insist, my dear." Jareth's tone was light but the words were a warning. He didn't look at her, but continued to gaze at some sight in his head no one could see, his eyes turned towards the remains of his meal.

The silence came back, but an uncomfortable one this time. It was the silence of someone waiting for an answer to their query and of another who had no idea how to phrase that answer.

"You disappeared twenty years ago, Jervohl," Jareth urged, "You went out on a routine raid- which mother had expressly forbidden you to attend- and you disappeared. We found the bodies but could not recognize which was you. We grieved."

"How- how is mother? Is she well?"

"No better or worse than you saw her last. Her eyes trouble her."

Jervohl smiled, a brief curling of the corners of her mouth. "And her sharp tongue?"

Jareth tossed her a rueful look. "Just as sharp. She hasn't lost her wits, you understand. Just her youth. She acts as she has always acted before."

"I bet she does. I missed her, you know. Not you, of course, because the last memory I have of you is exiling me."

"You annoyed me," Jareth laughed, clearly unrepentant, "I wouldn't have remembered that fight in the morning if you hadn't… wished what you did."

Jervohl grinned back. "Well, I hope impotency had a good effect on you."

"Ah, no. I was a bear with a sore head for that."

"Good. It had _no_ effect, then."

Jareth sobered after that. He rose from his seat and offered his hand to his sister. She raised an eyebrow but accepted it, allowing him to take them both to a quiet sitting room on the first floor.

"You will have to tell me," the Goblin King reminded her quietly, "And I would not like to treat you as a hostile prisoner. How did he capture you? What did he do to you? And what did you tell him?"

Jervohl seemed to be weighing her options in her mind. Brief snatches of images flit through her mind and she could hear voices and see people and think of things that were best left forgotten. "What if I were to saythat what you ask will force you to treat me like a hostile prisoner anyway?" she asked, "Would you leave it be? For family's sake?"

"Jervohl, I'm welcoming you back to my lands and my kingdom," Jareth pointed out, "I'm hardly going to throw you into the dungeons before then. And whatever the outcome of your twenty years away from us, I think you should tell me. Don't force me to press the issue."

"Will you? Press the issue?"

Jareth's hand had moved of its own accord to the powerstone around his neck. The only one of its power in the Underground, or so it was meant to be. He knew better. Gildred of the Sky, of all people, wore the partner and equal to his. He never had liked Gildred; such power was never safe in those evil hands. Not, Jareth was quick to agree, he himself was such a saint. And use his powerstone on his own little sister, he would, if he needed to. He owed her no mercy.

In seconds Jervohl found herself unable to move, her muscles frozen in a parody of paralysis. The instant sickening fear shot through her but she forced herself to stay calm. This was not Gildred; she would not be isolated and starved out of her mind. Jareth wasn't quite as cruel as all that.

The pressure eased off and she could move her hands.

"Now that you've put it like that," she laughed ruefully, "Let me go and I'll tell you everything."

The Goblin King let the younger female go. He dropped his hand back to his knee and blinked innocently at her, looking for all the world as if he were settling down at her behest.

Jervohl glared at him but began her tale. "We fought," she said, "As you very well know. And you banished me. I went to mother's palace and she consented to take me in. I was upset and you sent no word. I heard of the exchange of patrols and spoke with the commander when he passed by. He agreed to take me on. Mother refused to let me go. I went anyway. We were ambushed at the quarry and a few of us were taken prisoner. I found myself in Gildred's clutches and assumed he would ransom me. He didn't. After a long period of negotiations, I agreed to work with him for exactly nineteen and a half years and then I would be released and allowed to come back home. I kept my word. He kept his. The annexation of the quarry was my idea, as was his agreement to stay out of the Underground if given the right to use the Sea for non-war purposes."

"I had wondered." Jareth wasn't particularly startled by this admission. He knew Gildred's lieutenants were hand-picked, for both their ability to carry out his orders to the last letter and to advise him. The man was a good leader if ever there was one. A pity, really. It made the Goblin King's life that much more frustrating. "Do you feel you betrayed your Kingdom?"

Jervohl was a little startled until she saw where her brother's mind was going. "No," she agreed, "I never made a decision that put my people's life at risk."

"I would hope so." The Goblin King got to his feet and yawned behind his hand, bored with the conversation. There was only so much business he could talk. He really couldn't bare concentrated focus on one topic for more than a few hours. "Come with me. I have some papers you need to sign."

"I? What papers?" She didn't trust papers.

"For one thing, you need a regular income," Jareth informed her, "And since you were certified as dead twenty years ago, I need to personally guarantee that you are my sister and that, as the King, I have examined your case and judged you to be telling the truth. What else do you need?"

Jervohl grinned. There was that hidden streak of caring. She'd wondered whether it would rear its sleepy head. "Clothes," she said meekly, "And a suite of rooms here, if you please. All the necessities of life- hairbrush, toothbrush and the rest."

"Is that all?"

She hesitated. "A few conversations on what's changed and what hasn't wouldn't go amiss. I would hate to be presented back into society and not know what is occurring."

Jareth took her up the stairs, walking slower than was his wont, knowing it would take a little time for her to remember her way around the Castle again. But he didn't worry overmuch. With near immortals such as they, time was something they had in abundance. He conjured up a crystal and halted for just a second to twist and hand it to her. "Until you findyour sense of direction again, use this."

"A crystal," she whispered, turning it over in her hands, "I'd forgotten how warm they felt."

"Magic, my dear, is a very warming thing," Jareth remarked negligently.

Down the corridors, past the State Rooms and the various other chambers full of priceless heirlooms meant for impressing visitors, to the room right at the end where his study was. He stopped at the door and ran his fingers lightly over the wood, silently wishing the magical locks undone and then opening it. He held the door open politely for his sister.

"Your study," she sighed, "I always did think this room was too…" she broke off as her eyes alighted on the photograph. "And what is this? A mortal picture, dear brother? Don't tell me you've actually managed to convince some unsuspecting mortal that you are worthy as a lover!"

Jareth calmly took the photo out of her hands. "A friend," he evaded, not letting a drop of his roiling emotions show, "She's dead now. These are the papers. Sign beside my name."

Jervohl narrowed her green eyes and then shook that unease away from her. It wasn't her business if it made no sense why Jareth kept a picture of a dead girl on his desk. "As you wish."

She took her time bent over the papers, examining each other carefully, for which Jareth could only be grateful. The photo was burning in his hand and he had a sudden agonizing longing to wonder how Sarah would have reacted to his sister. Would she have liked her as much as she liked him? Would they have been friends? He rather thought they would have been.

And it would have been a happy time for them. He was glad to be mistaken about Jervohl's death. He did like his sister. Sarah would have been happy for him. She would have been as excited as him about this unexpected turn of events. Sarah would have insisted he visit his mother straight away to tell her. And perhaps he should? Perhaps he was doing wrong not to tell her?

"Jareth?"

He tore his eyes from the green ones smiling out of the photo frame, looking up to another pair of green eyes, so similar and yet so very different. "Yes. Did you say something?"

Jervohl looked from that sharply controlled face to the photo. "Who is she?" she asked. Jareth didn't resist when she took the photograph out of his hand to look at it. "She is pretty."

How best to answer than question? Sarah was so many different things- phantom lover, cherished person, conqueror, voice of conscience- the list was endless. "She is the only person to beat my Labyrinth. I loved her. She committed suicide sixteen years ago."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because she loved me too," Jareth said, "But she refused to be my Queen. The Aboveground was breaking her. I was with her at the end."

"Why did she refuse?"

"How am I to know? This is Sarah. She was never an easy person to understand," he murmured, looking affectionately at the photo again, "She had the gall to tell me the Labyrinth was a piece of cake. She was right. I made it so, for her. She wanted her brother back and I couldn't refuse."

"I'm sorry." Jervohl placed the object back on the desk as carefully as if the picture was Sarah herself. "It must have been horrible."

"Not really." Jareth broke out of whatever spell felt him captive and swept up the papers and took them over to a shelf of boxes. "I prefer her dead than what she would have had to become."

"Wouldn't you have preferred her as your Queen?" Jervohl corrected, frowning.

Jareth grinned suddenly, one of the most amused smiles she had ever seen him wear. "Sarah? She didn't want to be my Queen. Do you really think I'd force her?"

"Such chivalry. Such thought for another. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Neither did mother. Oh, please remember, the young man who will accompany mother here is Toby Williams, Sarah's half-brother. He is to be made welcome and comfortable when he arrives. May I ask that you champion him around? Most of our set will know of him, if they haven't met him, but you know how they are. Take care of him."

And Jareth had wished himself away.

Jervohl looked from the doorway to the photograph. So Jareth did have a heart beneath those ridiculous shirts, did he? Who would have thought! She spared a respectful thought for the young girl at having conquered the Unconquerable and went out. And this Toby? She wondered whether Jareth had his eye on making do with an Imitation Sarah. Certainly gender had never worried him before.

And there, the argument that had driven her away all those years ago popped into her head:

**"My betrothed, Jareth! How dared you…"**

**"We were drunk, Jervohl, and we have both apologized…"**

**"That is not good enough! How could you force him to betray me like this?"**

**Jareth's face when she finally screamed too loudlyat him. The way his fist had slammed down on the table, anger drowning out the apology and embarrassment on his face. "I see no reason why we should persist in this conversation," he said coldly, "If you must blame someone, blame yourself. You certainly don't love him."**

**"And I suppose you do?"**

**"No, but I have never pretended to. You have."**

**"You bastard." The words out before she could draw them back. The powerstone set in the ring on her finger flaring as she poured all that she had into one last curse in the goblin tongue.**

**Jareth's face as he heard those words, knew that the curse would hold exactly as she had commanded. The way his fingers had felt as they grabbed her arms and shook. The angered resignation on Hessie's face as she had bathed the bruises on her arm and helped her pack her bags for her exile from the Castle.**

All of that and more Jervohl still remembered. But those were times past. She'd forgotten and disregarded that, if not forgiven it. But forgiveness had nothing to do with it. She simply put it behind her and let it go.

And now Jareth had suffered. Was it evil of her to feel just a little satisfied at knowing he now knew what agony felt like? She supposed so. She shuddered to imagine how Gildred would have needled her with this information had he known.

Hessie, the human woman who had been with them for almost thirty years now, loomed into sight, her arms loaded with piles of cloth. She was beaming at the sight of her newly returned charge, so overjoyed to see her again that she hadn't stopped smiling.

"Hessie," Jervohl called, "Could you tell me about Sarah?"

The smile falted. "His Majesty doesn't like her mentioned, Ms. Jervohl."

"We'll do it privately in my room, while you measure me for clothing," Jervohl promised, "And I won't tell him anything. I just want to know. He seems to have loved her so."

"He still does, Ms. Jervohl. Never seen anything like it. He would move the stars in her name."


	4. A Mystery

Author' Note: I recently checked out some slash sites for 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and I found a beautifulfiction with a very interesting scene in it. Basically, **it's an imitation of the ballroom scene in the 'Labyrinth'**, set in a pub in New Orleans, where Jack Sparrow is singing Jareth's part and Norrington has to hunt for him through the throng of dancers like Sarah. It sounds sappy, but it was done so well. I just sat there, bouncing up and down in my chair, squealing in delight. Just thought I'd share.

------------------------------------------------------

"Lady Pandora?" Toby knocked politely on the outer door to his adoptive mother's personal suite. The house, called a palace by those in the Underground, was actually about the size of a big Aboveground manor. As the Undergrounders would have remarked, they were more impressed by beauty than size, hence most of the buildings tended to be small and delicately made.

The "enter" sounded a little forced, but Toby complied. The lady was standing in the midst of four full cases, a glare on her face as she glared at her attendant.

Toby bit back a grin but couldn't resist a small bite- "Suddenly I feel very underprepared."

"Shut up, Toby, and come in. I have been trying to tell Eloise that packing all the clothes I possess is not only a waste of time and energy, but of space."

"Begging your pardon, my Lady, but one never knows with the King's to-dos," Eloise sniffed, folding a brocade cape over her shoulder, "Anything he might ask of you and then where will you be?"

"I am only staying there four weeks!" Pandora snapped, "Have some sense, woman!"

"An' plenty I have, my Lady, enough not to send you to the heavens know what with only a case full of clothes."

Pandora whirled around to Toby and gestured triumphantly to Toby. "She admits it! The shameless hussy does this just to get back at me for refusing to take her. What fun she imagines she will have in the Castle, I can't be sure, but she is vindictive and vengeful. There! I told you so!"

"My Lady, you told me nothing," Toby laughed, finally breaking down as he fell over into a nearby seat and wiped at his streaking eyes. The two of them- dignified women both- were still glaring at each other, hands on their hips, with a fighting gleam in their eyes. "Please don't taunt her, Eloise. I'll tear something."

Eloise looked from him to her mistress, torn between answering him as he deserved and respectfully manipulating to get her own way. She settled for neither because the graceless mortal shook his head and sat up, brushing down his coat to settle the matter.

"Eloise, if I help you persuade Lady Pandora to take you with us, does that mean you can leave half the cases behind?"

"Of course, Mr. Williams," she said demurely, "No worries there would be for the safety of her ladyship's clothing, Mr. Williams, if I could be there to see to them. His Majesty being a bachelor, Mr. Williams, his servants might not know how to handle a real lady's needs, Mr. Williams."

"Eloise, stop, all right? I understand. How many times must I ask you to stop calling me 'Mr. Williams'? I am Toby, plain and simple."

"Oh no, Mr. Williams," Eloise said serenely, picking up two of the cases and taking them back into the bedchamber, "It never does to be too familiar."

She left, her straight back still stiff and her face pleasantly blank, but the strangest look of conquest in her eyes.

Pandora huffed and sat down as well. "There," she said again, gesturing towards the direction her attendant had taken, "Do you see how much harm it does to give in to her? I should have never have trusted Jareth when he said he had the perfect woman to suit my needs. She drives me mad!"

"But she does her work well, my Lady," Toby soothed. He got to his feet and picked up the cape and the two cases still left. "I'll take these out to the carriage. No doubt Eloise is already packed for just such an occasion."

"Very likely. Oh, and Toby?"

"Yes?"

"Toby, how often must I ask you not to call me by title? My name will be ample. Or- or mother, if you prefer."

He took his time answering, before flashing her a small smile. "Mother is preferable, but as a wise woman once said, it never does to be too familiar, now does it?"

He exited and the older fae female shook her head. Familiar! How familiar couldn't she be when she'd heard his prayers and stammered confessions? Both mother and father she had been to the child, and later confidante and family. She was the one who had introduced him to Luka, or Luke as he affectionately called his lover. Or his boyfriend, as he preferred to call him, stubbornly holding to his Aboveground traditions.

Lady Pandora was, in short, worried. Jareth didn't suddenly decide to throw balls for no good reason. Especially considering that in the Underground, they referred to events of togetherness and celebration, traditionally lasting a week but usually going past that time mark. Jareth never, ever could stand people under his roof for that length of time. Her son simply got bored of them before then.

The letter that had accompanied the invitation had been simple enough. She was needed a week in advance so that Jareth could meet with his never-seen charge and inspect him as well as play the dutiful son for a while. Pandora didn't trust either reason. And ultimately- horrible though it sounded- she suspected Jareth's motives to the mortal child she fostered for him. Sarah's half-brother, the only living link to her… Jareth was exactly the kind of man to appreciate the charms of such an arrangement. And Toby… well, there was the catch.

"My Lady? Are you ready?"

Eloise. Pandora got to her feet and accepted the cape that her attendant insisted on fastening around her shoulders. "Eloise, it really is much too warm for brocade. Something lighter, perhaps?"

"I'm sorry, my Lady, but I packed those."

How the goblin lied through her sharp teeth! Pandora shot her a hard look and met the most innocently limpid blink of warm brown eyes.

"Is that all, my Lady?"

"Yes, Eloise. Unless you plan to pack my linen too?"

"No, my Lady. I already sent three sets of bed linen in the other cases. As for table linen, I assume the Castle will have a suitable collection."

Pandora shot her a disquieted and half-amused look and then bowed reluctantly. The woman was a worrier, but she was efficient. And she took excellent care of her mistress' health. Walking out of her room and adjusting to the glare of the light on her weakened eyes. One hand on her arm and the other hefted a battered valise and Eloise gently drew her down the corridor to the stairs, chattering to cover the awkwardness of the situation.

"My Lady?"

Now Toby! Did nothing leave her alone? Pandora groaned inwardly but offered a smile up to the tall man, taking his arm and going quietly out the door.

The journey was short, but uneventful and it seemed like no time at all until they had emerged out of the underground roadways that the folk of the Underground used into the sunlight of the Goblin City. Crooked houses and crooked people, chatter and noise and smells- of fresh baking and sweat and livestock and laundry- and the blur of earth colours festooned with brightly coloured ornaments: the lives of the goblins. Eloise sighed a little wistfully but held her seat and said nothing.

Toby glanced at the goblin and then at the lady beside him, dozing against his shoulder. He eased his arm around her and helped her settle more comfortably, an amused grimace on his face as Eloise's softened face grinned at the sight.

Toby, for his part, was more interested in exploring. But he supposed he couldn't until after he'd met the Goblin King. That thought too intrigued him. What was Jareth really like? He didn't really want to meet him, but he didn't see the point in refusing to do so either. Besides, Luke would be there. He could smile and relax at that, remembering the pout on his lover's pretty face as he complained about being unable to see him for that whole week apart.

A whole week! When Luke's extravagant gallivantings around the place frequently took him away for two weeks at a time! It was really the limit.

"How long?" Toby asked softly.

"We're there," Eloise said, reaching to tap her mistress' knee.

Lady Pandora came awake with a start and blinked heavily for a few minutes, yawning behind her hand and pulling her cape closer around her. Toby thoughtfully got his arm out of her way.

"Here we are," the lady said, a hand on the rolled down window, "How short a journey, it seems!"

"You slept right through it," Toby pointed out, "But it _was_ shorter than I remember."

"That is because you were a little boy of nine the last time you made it," Pandora retorted, "Everything seems twice as long at that age, especially when the one at that age was as hyperactive as you."

"I am rebuked, I really am. Wait while I let down the steps, now." He hurriedly did so and then handed both females out of the carriage, as courteous as his adopted mother had always taught him to be.

Eloise instantly went to the following carriage to oversee the unloading of their baggage, haranguing the goblin guards in her shrill voice. Indeed, the first sight that caught Jareth's eye as he came out was the little goblin lady in her black dress poking a quaking guard in the chest with a nailed forefinger and threatening to make trouble if he so much as scratched the daintily embroidered cloth case in his arms.

And then he saw him.

And couldn't resist the disappointment.

Not Sarah, after all.

Too tall.

Too broad.

Too… open.

"Mother," the Goblin King greeted, drawing her arm in his, "Ah, Toby Williams? A pleasure to finally meet with you, Toby. You were absent when I was last down."

"Yes," Toby said blandly, "hunting."

"Yes, so I was told." Jareth raised a dark brow;his new guest was far too different from his long-dead Sarah. Toby was polite, for one, and conventional, for another. "I hope it was productive."

"Oh, yeah. It was." Of course, Toby added silently, very productive. He'd gotten away from the Goblin King, right enough. "My Lady, I'll just go see to the cases. I think Eloise will kill someone if left alone."

Now Jareth was really getting a clear picture in his mind. "Don't bother," he sighed. He dropped his mother's hand for just an instant to turn to three guards still gawking in the entrance. "You three! Take Lady Pandora's attendant to the rooms prepared for her Ladyship. And then make sure her cases are taken there as well, the same to be repeated for Mr. Williams. Any damage done to their belongings, however small, and I will hold you three personally responsible. Clear?"

"Sire!" A quick salute in gleaming precision and the guards sprang away.

Jareth turned back and led them both back inside. "Welcome back to the Castle at the Centre of the Labrynth, Toby. I think the two of us need to talk. But first, if you will excuse me, I need a few private minutes with my mother. Follow your cases, will you, and inspect your rooms or something? Thank you."

Toby shook his head and held his tongue, stunned by such a polite yet cold dismissal. It would never have happened in the Lady Pandora's house. He greeted the guests himself as her right hand and he would never have… Toby caught himself up short from those heated thoughts. They were useless.

He walked up the stairs, and then paused with a sniff. Wax. And honey. And burnt pine cones. The smell! He remembered this smell! It tugged at his memories, bringing up the only memory of Jareth that he had, of those hard hands and the sweeping coat. Of the heat. And then falling asleep crying for his parents.

"Excuse me."

Toby started and jumped aside, bumping into thebanisters in his haste to move. His brain had barely registered that he was blocking someone'e way when the someone put out their hands to steady him.

"Wait! Don't tumble down the stairs! Are you alright?"

"I- I beg your pardon, I didn't see where I was going."

"That's alright," the woman said, smiling at him quietly. She took her hand away from him and used it to tuck some of her unevenly lengthened blond hair behind her ears. Prominent cheekbones showed to remarkable advantage in her sharp face, high where the Goblin King's were… the Goblin King?

"Have I met you before?" Toby asked smoothly, hoping to get an introduction out of her. He was almost certain she looked like both the Goblin King and weren't those almond-shaped eyes the exact shape of Lady Pandora's? But how could that be!

"No, I don't think so," the woman said.

Fae. No other creature had those canines and that hair. Toby nodded and stood politely aside to let her pass. She did so, sweeping past in a cloud of simple pale pink cloth, no embroidery and no frills beyond a simple ribbon snaked aroundthe wrist and the fingers of her right hand, as was the old custom of adornment. Toby had seen the Lady Pandora use it at times.

He stared with some interest after her for a while, but philosophically followed his cases. There was no sense puzzling over mysteries unless they presented themselves. No doubt she was a distant relative or else he was just seeing what his mind had fastened to. There was no mystery to it.

The Lady Pandora had quite another reaction to the young fae female. She clasped her tight and wept for joy at the return of her youngest child, kissing her features with a trembling mouth, unable to even believe that Jervohl stood once more before her. Jareth only smiled and Jervohl couldn't deny that there were really tears in her own eyes, though she was too self-conscious to shed them.

Well, the Goblin King sighed to himself, the reunion was completed. It had gone according to plan and so far there had been no problems. Now he only had to take care of the problem wandering around in a room on the fourth floor of the Castle, probably occupied in a routine schedule of washing the journey from him and changing his shirt.

For just a second, Jareth shut his eyes and saw a flash of dark hair and beaming green eyes, storming around the Castle and shyly asking to be shown all its delights. He dragged his mind away from those pleasant dreams and went back to put his arm around his family. Fantasies of Sarah could wait for the night.


	5. Welcome

Author's Note: If things get confusing, please do take the trouble to tell me. Sometimes, I forget that other people are not privy to what I already 'know' about the background and setting of my fics. Please feel free to ask.

-

The room was big. It was a single room- Toby wasn't important enough to merit a suite- and it was simple. But it was big. It had taken him a while to reach it, seeing as how it was curiously built right into the left hand corner of the Castle. But the view! With two windows looking out into the City and the other looking out into the far horizon, Toby found himself going between both walls, spellbound. He was almost certain he could see the Sea glimmering on that far horizon.

The Sea.

He'd never been to the Sea. It was a long four days' journey away and he'd never had the chance. When he'd been twelve, Pandora had fallen ill. The illness itself was not serious, but it meant she couldn't take long journeys without tiring herself out too much. Luke visited it regularly, however, and he'd heard all about it.

Luke…

Toby grinned, wondering whether his boyfriend was keeping to the instructions he'd given him. Not about staying away from other men, naturally, because they trusted each other with _that_! But just about the usual things; namely, make sure you have enough money left to get back, make sure you actually eat, don't forget to take your belongings out of the lodging house when you leave… Luka was scatterbrained like that.

But pretty.

And he did have some sense! After all, hadn't Luke been the one who'd helped him arrange for the town near Lady Pandora's palace to be restored? It had been so ramshackle, Toby hadn't known where to start. Luke had taken him down and sorted it out without any fuss. Luke had told him what contracts to draw up and Luke had guided him on the best choices of tradesmen and resources. All Luke.

But sitting in his room and daydreaming was not going to be of much use to him, was it? Toby shook the lethargy away and stood up briskly, moving to his cases to put his belongings away.

The last of his things to come to light was something that made him give a surreptitious smile- his sword. An ordinary enough one, to be sure, and nothing near as good as he might like, but it was a sword that served his purpose. He slid it carefully under the bed, hoping no one would find it and accuse him of planning to murder the King of the Goblins. A bell pull hung to the left of his bed, ready for him to summon assistance.

Which was all well and good because he was getting hungry!

"I could call someone," he murmured to himself, "Or I could just go out and find something to do. No doubt my gracious host will be asking for me soon enough."

He sighed and left his room. Better not to wait for trouble to come to him; better to face it straight away.

Now where was that staircase? Oh yes, just down here and turn this corner… no, the next one. He backtracked and found the right corner to turn. His brain noted that there was a large tapestry on the wall just before his corner and he methodically stored that information away in his memory. It wouldn't do to get lost in the Castle, after all. Down the staircase and keep going until he hit the ground floor.

And then where…

A vague idea of where he was going lead him smack bang into a large, impressive, starkly cold room that he remembered distantly from a dream. A throne at the other end, on a raised platform with three shallow stairs. The crimson carpet still snaked its way up the middle. The Reception Hall, wasn't it?

"Mr. Williams."

Toby looked around inquisitively and then turned fully, offering a respectful bow to his host. "Sire," he greeted, "Excuse my wandering around, but I was looking for you."

Jareth blinked. "You could have summoned one of the goblins," he remarked. Inwardly, he was conscious of that inexplicable sense of disappointment again. "But as you're here, let's go into my throne room and talk things over. I believe you know the way."

"I do remember it, yes," Toby agreed, looking to the almost-invisible door. "After you, Sire."

Jareth was getting very tired of that 'Sire'. It grated on his nerves. "As you wish." Toby Williams seemed damnably stiff-necked, he found. The man was turning out to be a most remarkable bore.

The door was pushed open and Toby found, to his surprise, that he was not hit by a wall of memories. The screaming and shouting from the car-crash did not ring in his ears, and the numbed confusion of what to do next didn't echo in his heart. He knew that he had cried himself to sleep that day, but for the life of him no scars were ripped open for entering this room once more. He shut the door respectfully behind himself and moved to stand before his interrogator.

"Well, Toby, we finally meet."

"Yes, we do."

"And how have you enjoyed the Underground so far?" Jareth asked, settling back in the curve-backed seat that served the room. "Has it been to your liking?"

Had it? "It has," Toby allowed, standing until such time as he was invited to sit, "Lady Pandora has been very good to me."

The Goblin King gave an uncharacteristic snort. "According to my mother, you have been very good to her," he laughed, "Who am I to believe?"

A blond brow rose. Toby was quite certain now that the Goblin King had the most facetious brain he'd ever been privileged to observe. Not to mention being shallow and prone to mockery. "Both, Sire. She took me in and gave me a home. In return, I do what I can to make her life pleasant."

Yes, the Goblin King decided, decidedly stiff-necked. And conventional. The man made all the right noises and said all the right things. Jareth was still watching to see if he would even ask to sit down.

"Sire, may I ask why you specifically required I attend this ball?"

Toby remained standing, clasping his hands lightly behind his back as if standing part-ways to attention. Jareth took the opportunity to look him over. The mortal was tall- never a bad thing- with broad shoulders and long, clean limbs. His face was neither handsome nor ugly. He was pleasant enough, with regular features and regular expressions. His hands and his hair, Jareth agreed, were the most unique things about him. His hair was the same dark gold that he remembered Karen Williams' had been, a very pretty colour indeed. And Toby's hands were large, broad and very unrefined.

"You may ask anything you like," the Goblin King sighed, "_I_ may, however, choose not to answer. In this case, I asked you to attend because I have never met you since you left my care fourteen years ago, and because I think you need to make a decision concerning the rest of your adult life."

"I have no complaints with my present life, Sire. I have a home, I have friends, and I have a duty to Lady Pandora. Why can I not keep that?"

Jareth sat up straight, a frown twisting his mouth. "Continue as you are now? I don't quite see why you would choose such a life. It sounds singularly boring."

"For you, perhaps. It suits me, Sire."

"I see." Long, restless fingers stroked smooth wood. "Tell me why you prefer this life to anything else I can give you. I could send you back Aboveground, you know. I'd provide for you, of course, and you could live a life of luxury in the world you were born to."

Toby actually had the gall to look amused at such a suggestion. "Sire, I'm not someone who particularly likes to sleep all day and drink champagne all night."

"Then… the life of a soldier perhaps?"

"Too active. Too regimented. Both in the Underground and Aboveground."

"A regular job Aboveground with a regular salary? The chance to marry and have a regular family?"

"Too uninspiring, thank you. I've seen too much to be happy with that. And I, er, doubt I will be able to have a family anytime soon. Or be married."

Jareth stood up, more perturbed and frustrated than he had been for a long while. He had a promise to keep to Sarah and the man was making it very difficult. Surely no one could find happiness in the petty little life Toby led? Educated persons of no means were forced to that job, or those poorer relatives who relied on their richer family for their upkeep. No one _chose_ such a life!

He circled curiously, the humour in Toby's words not lost on him. "What do you mean," the Goblin King suddenly snapped out, "Mortals are constantly attempting to marry and breed. It seems an ingrained instinct for most of them."

"And you get asked to cart away the mistakes they make, I have been told," Toby replied, turning to face his observer with a thin smile, "I'm not very comfortable turning my back on you, Sire; I hope you will forgive me for adhering to the conventions."

"I don't give a damn. Explain yourself."

"It's clear enough, Sire. I had thought the Lady would have told you."

"Told me what?"

"That I already have a lover?"

The frown vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving a look of some surprise and satisfaction. "Is that all?" Jareth asked, relieved beyond measure, "I thought you were frigid for a while there."

Toby glared at the monarch.

"The state of your sexual ability aside, the Lady has not informed me of your lover. Who is it? Do I know her?"

"No."

"I see. Why is that?"

"Because it's a male fae, Sire. You certainly know Luke- I mean, Luka- but I don't know how well. It's never been clear to me."

"_Luka_!"

"Yes." Toby blinked as Jareth grimaced and threw his hands up in a disgusted gesture, finally to throw his lean body back into his seat. "This displeases you, Sire?"

"Toby, will you please not refer to me by that ridiculous title? I am no monarch of yours as you are _not_ a citizen of the Underground and owe me _no_ allegiance."

"You saved my life."

"Oh, stuff the gratitude, Toby. I kept a promise to your sister to protect you from harm and make sure you were happy. Beyond that, I've done nothing for you."

Ah, yes. The love story of the Goblin King and his mortal beloved. People still sang of it. Toby found it negligible. "Very well, then. What am I to call you?"

"Since I call you by name, you could, perhaps, do the same for me," Jareth pointed out ironically. "It would be permissible."

"It would be too forward and I would not be comfortable," Toby said flatly. He folded his arms across his chest in a gesture of distance, the movement as final and decisive as his stance on the floor. He was getting very tired of the Goblin King vacillating around him.

Jareth gave up. "Fine! Call me whatever you wish, just so I know it refers to me. Though I doubt we shall see much of each other at this rate." He reached up to rub his temples. "To get back to the topic at hand, what life do you choose?"

Toby sighed and shook his head. "I thought I had made myself clear, Your Majesty, this life. I'm changing nothing. I will stay with Lady Pandora for as long as she requires me."

Jareth leaned back, one hand still cupping his face in a thoughtful way. He studied the mortal once more, taking note- this time- of the stiffness in his spine and the obstinate set of his jaw. Not to mention the muscular precision of that body that a plain brown suit could not disguise. "Stay where you like, Toby. I don't really care what you do so long as I can be sure you are happy."

The mortal nodded. "I'm happy," he said simply, "Was that all?"

"Willing to run away already? On another hunt, perhaps?" Jareth mocked, "I had thought we were having a conversation."

"Conversations are friendly," Toby laughed, unbending enough to sketch a discreet bow, "If you will excuse me, Sire, I've had a long journey and I really am hungry." He waited to see the flicker of annoyance on that long face and then the wave of a pale hand. "Thank you."

He walked out of the room without needing to look back. No doubt Jareth was enraged at him, some supercilious scheme for his charity case now thwarted. But Toby was quite happy with the way this first interview had gone. He was not some confused little child any more and if that was what the Goblin King had been hoping to find, then the fae was going to be sadly mistaken.

"Excuse me," he finally asked, stopping one of the little goblins that occasionally darted around the Castle on some errand or another, "Could you tell me where I can get something to eat?"

"Dining area," the goblin rumbled, jabbing a finger at the door his petitioner had just come through, "Back through there, turn left, first door to your left." And then he scampered off, muttering something about chickens.

Toby shook his head and smirked. Goblins, he sighed, they were the same over. The Underground was a peculiar place indeed.


	6. Times Past

The silence in the room, while not especially uncomfortable, was rather deafening. Pandora couldn't take her eyes off her daughter, newly returned from the dead, and Jareth was still in a slightly foul mood from his conversation before. Toby just kept a respectful stillness.

"This is turning into a wake," Jervohl eventually said, "Jareth, amuse us with stories of your friends."

The Goblin King's eyes flickered but he obligingly put down his knife and fork. Pasting a smile on his face, he nodded to the quiet mortal at the other end of the table. "You should ask Toby, Jervohl. He shares a bed with Luka, after all."

"_Luka_?" Jervohl squeaked. She spun in her seat and fixed a fascinated eye on the young man she'd been briefly introduced to.

Toby rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes. He is my boyfriend; what of it?"

"Nothing," the fae woman said quickly, "Nothing at all. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

"That there was something wrong?" Pandora said sharply. Strangely enough, she glared fully at her son instead of her daughter and shook her finger at him. "Jareth, behave. Toby does not need to be burdened with your prejudices."

"I apologise," came the smooth reply. "Jervohl, I took the liberty of inviting Crase."

Jervohl nodded and refused to react. Pandora put a hand on her knee and squeezed comfortingly.

Jareth gave it a moment and then leaned forward, softening his voice in deference to the delicate subject. "He has never married, Jervohl, and I know he feels the need to beg forgiveness from you."

"Bah!"

"Jervohl…"

"Excuse me, Jareth, I've eaten enough. I'll wait for you all in the sitting room." She escaped as soon as she could.

Jareth shook his head. He could hear the Lady Pandora's mournful sigh and shared her grievances somewhat. Then he looked to Toby, dispassionately noticing that the mortal hadn't turned a hair. His blue eyes were turned down and he was eating steadily as if the awkward conversation before this had never taken place. Jareth shrugged and followed his lead.

Pandora looked from one to the other and bit her tongue- hard! Men! Did they never notice tension until it came in the form of a blow to the head? She thought not. Jareth never had been sensitive to the feelings of others. And Toby was the most unflappable creature in the world when he was in _that_ mood. Which he was; she could tell. His grip on the cutlery would have broken something more delicate.

Seconds ticked by, until the only sound left was the soft slip of liquid in the glasses.

"Your Majesty," Toby said quietly, "I haven't yet thanked you for your kindness today."

"Eh?"

A small grin whispered over the 'regular' features. "Your kindness, Your Majesty? Our conversation in the throne room?"

Pandora turned in her seat and glared. "What did you do now, Jareth?"

"Nothing, mother," the Goblin King snapped, "I'll thank you to keep your nose out of my business." His bad mood was ruined when he saw a spasm of disquiet race across Toby's face at his manner of answer. It was very intriguing.

"Toby, what did Jareth say this time?"

"Hmmm? Oh! Nothing of great importance. He just asked me if I were happy," the mortal said easily, "He informed me of the other options I could choose in order to live my life and I turned them down,"

Pandora nodded her blond head in satisfaction. "Good."

"Yes, well, the offer stands until the end of the ball," Jareth interrupted. He got to his feet and motioned to the others to do the same, "I will not take your answer as final, Toby. Not until you have thought about it."

"Oh, for the mercy of peace, Jareth, will you stop…"

"No. But that is neither here nor there. Shall we join Jervohl in the sitting room? Or shall we proceed to the library?"

"The sitting room, Jareth. It is not good taste to take your guests to the library."

"I can't see why. The library is a _much_ more amusing place," the fae remarked.

Toby caught a teasing grin on his face. A gentle look, really, and one that seemed quite at odds with the words that accompanied them. The puzzle was answered when Pandora took his arm, ruefully demanding an apology from her son for teasing her so. Jareth laughingly obliged, pointing out that only she would ever really believe him capable of impropriety.

Mismatched eyes suddenly glanced over a black-clothed shoulder and met a pair of blue eyes. A slow, measured look and then Jareth turned back to speak with his mother, deftly smoothing the feathers he had ruffled with his bad temper. Toby slowed himself even more, deliberately falling behind as far as was possible. He didn't want to intrude. This was for family and he wished he had gone with his first instinct to stay in his room. He should not be here.

"Toby, dear, be careful," Pandora called behind. The lady stopped and held out her other hand with a smile. "You'll get lost in Jareth's great rambling castle and then we'll have to look for you."

"Oh, Mr. Williams won't lose himself so easily," Jareth smiled, "He seems to have an uncanny sense of direction."

Toby recognized an olive branch when he saw one and he offered a respectful bow in return, taking Pandora's hand and drawing it through his arm. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Toby, you really should just call him by name, you know," Pandora said severely.

"What have we said about familiarity, My Lady?" Toby whispered, leaning down in a mock secretive way. He refused to even look down at Jareth's knowing eyes, to catch the glimpse of keen observation in them. No doubt Jareth had already guessed whatever it was he kept hidden behind his wish to keep his place.

"Stuff and nonsense," Pandora replied, taking her hand from Jareth to smack his arm. "In public, I can understand. But in private? You're as much a part of this family as I am."

"I think you should speak with the family before making such remarks," Toby said. This time he couldn't resist and his eyes slid to Jareth's. The Goblin King, far from adopting a superior mocking attitude, seemed to be watching the little argument with some enjoyment.

Jareth didn't smile but his eyes danced as he shook his head. "Far be it from me to counter-act my mother's whims," he sighed, "I fear for my safety if I do."

"Yes, yes, make fun of me, the both of you. But I will remind you that I brought the both of you up! Jareth, if you even want me to start…"

"For pity's sake, no!" The Goblin King's enjoyment fell away like a cloak, revealing a very real alarm behind it. Baby stories were not, nor had they ever been, his most treasured way to spend an evening. And in front of the mortal! Now that was too much.

"And Toby…"

The mortal hurriedly tapped a finger on his closed mouth. "As silent as the grave," he agreed.

Jervohl looked up as the door opened, startled and unable to move quick enough. Jareth was laughing at some joke with their parent, while the mortal was smiling quietly to himself. Pandora took one look at her and dropped both males.

"Jervohl, my dear, come here."

Warm arms around her and it had been so long since that had happened. The younger female tried to hold back the tears, but she couldn't. She cried, clutching at her mother's arms and unable to stop the sobs from shaking through her slender frame.

Jareth set his jaw and turned to Toby. But the mortal had already vanished; clearly believing it was not his place to intrude into what was essentially a family matter. But Jareth himself felt suffocated by female hysterics, much though he loved his sister, and while he was very sympathetic as to her evident distress he did not particularly want to have anything to do with it.

"Toby! Wait!"

The mortal turned around and raised an eyebrow.

The Goblin King caught up with his and gestured helplessly. "The shock, I think, has finally gotten to her."

"I didn't think it was my place…"

"No, it wasn't. But I think if you are to stay here, you will need to be told a few things about this peculiar family that you've adopted." The wry words didn't go unnoticed.

The Goblin King reached up a hand for Toby's shoulder, silently cursed the height that put him four inches below the mortal, and wished them to the gardens behind the Castle. Then he let go and motioned to a seat.

"Sit."

Toby sat.

"Crase was Jervohl's intended. They split apart when she left."

"I see. May I ask why she left?"

"Not really."

"I just wondered, Your Majesty. Forgive me, but I don't want to say the wrong thing to her. She seems to suffer enough without that."

Jareth was forced to cede that point.

"Twenty years ago my sister and I had a fight," Jareth began, "I banished her from my lands and so she left the Castle. To cut a long story short, she disobeyed my mother's express commands and went out with one of the patrols that guarded the quarry on the southwest border of the Underground. You have heard of Gildred of the Sky?"

Toby nodded, eyes narrowing somewhat. Everyone in the Underground had heard of Gildred of the Sky. He was an outlaw leader beyond the civilized lands. According to legend, he held the sister to the powerstone that passed from Goblin King to Goblin King. As one of Gildred's political passions was to rid the Underground of its connection with mortals or other 'impurities', Toby had felt justified in learning a bit about the fae.

"Jervohl fell into his clutches. Her identity could not have been hidden because he had seen her before, on one of the few negotiation meetings that we arranged between us. She agreed to work under his command for a set time, and she did. Jervohl has no brains. Plenty of courage, but I suppose it was too much to expect her to sabotage his plans properly."

"I don't think she could have done that," Toby pointed out, "Gildred isn't stupid; he would have seen through her. Besides, she gave her word."

"I suppose you keep your word, Toby?" Jareth smirked, still leaning against the trunk of the tree whose shadow they stood beneath.

"I do keep my word."

"Ah, yes, my mother had mentioned that you are an honourable man."

"Is it so wrong?"

"An honourable man will die with honour," Jareth agreed. He paused for a moment as if in thought and then reached up a hand to push a lock of hair behind his ear. "But a less honourable man will live to save the world. It always happens. Fairytales have it all wrong. One has to cheat just a little to win the race."

Toby tilted his head as if to observe this strange creature before him from another angle. "Just as you do in your Labyrinth."

"Just as I do in my Labyrinth. Of course, I do keep certain promises, but the majority of them I do not hold to be sacred. Perhaps it makes me a less honourable person, but it keeps my people safe."

"I suppose if you had been taken captive by Gildred of the Sky, you would have sabotaged his plans quite recklessly," Toby enquired.

"I would have. It would have weakened him, and it would have played havoc with his plans." Jareth left his tree trunk to sit down. "Don't tell my sister that. She isn't ready to hear it yet."

"No, that would be cruel." Toby thought back over the conversation, finding it stranger than he had first given it credit for. "Your Majesty, there is a matter that I did mean to discuss with you, but I'm not sure how you will react to it."

"I told you that I reserve the right not to answer. But ask me anything."

"What exactly did you promise my sister?"

The Goblin King stiffened to carved marble. For a long time he said nothing as Toby held his breath beside him, waiting for a word, for any sign, to answer his question. Nothing seemed forthcoming.

"What did you…"

"I heard you the first time," Jareth snapped, rising to his feet restlessly. He paced for a minute, hands clasped behind his back and uncharacteristically biting on his lip. "Why now? Why do you want to know now?"

"All my life, Lady Pandora has introduced me to people and the minute they hear my name they know me as Sarah's half-brother. She's a legend in the Underground for- for being the girl you fell in love with, the girl who beat your Labyrinth. They ask me questions and I can't answer them."

"Naturally," Jareth said dryly, "You were only seven when she killed herself."

Not a flicker of emotion changed in Toby's face as he nodded. Jareth really couldn't fault the man; he never had known his sister for more than a few years in his early childhood. He could not expect him to understand the sharpness of the blade that twisted in his own heart whenever another person mentioned that name.

"Will you tell me about her? I'd ask her ladyship, but she doesn't like to talk about Sarah."

"No, she doesn't, does she?" Jareth took another two steps and then looked up. "She thinks I was a fool. They all did. For loving her."

"She was only fifteen, Your Majesty."

"A child, yes, I know. I told myself that often enough, Toby. I didn't expect her to say yes when I first asked her. She was too caught up in the game as well to really hear me out. By the time she did, it was too late. She took the pills to stop the depression, called me and told me she still couldn't accept me."

"Why?"

Jareth shrugged. "Who knows? _I_ never did. Maybe she hated me more than she loved me. I don't know. She certainly never forgave me."

"For what?"

"For obeying her, for dancing with her, for trying so hard to tell her how I felt."

"Which was when you promised."

And just like that the Goblin King's mind was swept away to another age.

**An open window… Sarah's voice… the drowsy woman lying on the bed in a simple nightshirt…**

"**Jareth, I called." She was so sleepy. Jareth hadn't known what was going on until he heard that note in her voice. **

"**Sarah, what did you do?"**

**The empty bottle on her bedside table, the suicide note under it. Sarah explained as best she could, fighting sleep and toxins to talk to him. Jareth grabbed at her, stroking her face and her hair, trying to get her to stay awake.**

"**Come with me," he'd urged, "Just wish yourself to me and I can take you away. You'll be cured and you can live forever. With me. I will make you happy, I swear."**

**Sarah had refused, and then rambled away on another point, her eyes closed and her voice getting softer. Somewher along the way she'd ordered him to take care of her little brother. And then sleep. It took a while for the pills to work, but Jareth had stayed throughout.**

"Jareth? I'm sorry, I should not have brought this up."

The Goblin King shook his head and blinked the haze from his eyes. She was dead. There was nothing he could do and she was dead. "No. You should not have brought it up." He swallowed. "I have a right to refuse you answers. Excuse me."

The owl flew away on the night, heading out over the Labyrinth itself until it dipped down into the secretive twists and turns of stone.

Toby took off his coat and looked up accusing at the dark sky. The first night in the Castle at the Centre of the Labyrinth and it would have to be filled with drama. Ah, well. There had been no help for it. He had questions. Someone was sure to have answers.

Toby stood up and made his way back to the Castle, confident that eventually he could glean whatever information he wanted out of the Goblin King.


	7. Fantasy

Author's Note: No idea how this happened, but I do press the issue that this is an R- rated fiction for a reason. If you do not like sexual references, references to violence of any kind, or graphic scenes of any other adult content, I suggest you leave right now.

As always, **'blah'** is dream sequence or flashback. Basically a mental happening, not a physical or reality-based one. Usually for dreams, I'll use present tense and for flashbacks I'll use the past tense. I'll try to remember to keep reminding people anyway.

-

"**Jareth…"**

**That voice again. She always uses just that voice. It teases him so horribly to hear just that tone, as if she knows a secret and is ready to hold it over his head for her own amusement. **

**He turns his head and there. There she is. Perfect in the sunlight. **

**Naturally, logic tells him that this is impossible. It is night. The sun, even in the Underground, is incapable of shining at night. But she is there in the sun- pale and curvy and soft and welcoming. **

**He can't help smiling at her, seeing those green eyes glitter mischievously at him as she boldly lets her fingers thread through his shirt. Another little fantastical idiosyncrasy! Since when has he ever worn a shirt to bed? Ah, yes, now he remembers; since that delightful day he learned how wonderful it was to be undressed by her nimble fingers. Always ink-stained, that right hand. But the ink has dried and it leaves not a mark on anything. **

"**What's wrong, Goblin King? Cat got your tongue?" She sticks her own tongue out at him and laughs in his face. A sudden movement and she's straddling him, naked and glorious as a Goddess in heat. That tender look of hunger and neediness on her face. **

**He knows that look. It's the one she always uses when she comes on to him. A rare thing, to see his Sarah look so wanton. Not like the honeymoon, which was a complete disaster for she _would_ always insist that the lights be turned off. And he hadn't had the heart to trick her just so he could satisfy himself. She _had_ been only eighteen. Now she looks older, and regal even, as she goads him with her hips, drawing a sound from his tongue that is not a groan so much as a cry for help.**

"**One day, woman," he grates, fingers closing on her beautifully wide hips, "One day you will break me with all this teasing."**

"**Break the Goblin King? Oh, how awful!" She leans forward, taking that grinding contact away from the part of him that aches for it. A horrendous enough state of affairs, but now she looks serious, her sensuality put away for her loving concern. "Should I stop, Jareth? Not tonight? I can stop, you know."**

**And again, how can he refuse her? Nothing. The stars, the world… they are all playthings for her dearest hands just so he can know she is happy, just for her, because that is what love is- the fireworks and the thunder and the sparks that race along their arms whenever they touch. And so he feels his heart pull his body from that blanketing darkness, firing him instantly even though he would never have thought it was possible a minute ago. **

**No more sleep now, no more clothing. And she fits so well with him! Every time and he still gasps and trembles when he slides in for the first time. The same way that her eyes shut and her head falls back. He'd like to rest, to take things slow, but she needs something more and again his heart pushes his body to perform. Not that it's any kind of a chore. By this point it's an automatic response. **

**Sarah moans in his ear, in his mouth, into thin air, clutching at his back, his shoulders, his hair, even daringly at his hips as she draws nearer. Pulling him in deeper and longer, faster and harder, wanting and taking and somehow giving so much more because the way she shamelessly enjoys him makes it more pleasurable for him. **

**And when it's over, his body protests. His heart tells it to shut up, reminds it that it would do much worse for the warm body that continues to caress it. And even his body agrees. Madness, that is what this is, madness and obsession, but oh, he could no longer hope to fight it than he could hope to wish it gone. If it were a fatal illness he would still accept it. **

"**Jareth?"**

**He strokes her arm and hums against her hair, telling her he is still awake and listening. The soft crush of her breasts against his side is vaguely distracting, and oddly reassuring. It makes it more real, to feel that discomfort and know he doesn't mind it. **

"**Jareth, do you mind very much?"**

"**About what, Sarah?" **

"**That Toby doesn't look like me?"**

**A strange question and Jareth starts. Even for a dream, this is surreal. None of his fantasies have ever asked him soul-searching questions before. Why now? Was it so important? Couldn't he just enjoy his fantasies without reality intruding?**

"**Sarah, I have no idea what you mean."**

"**You do, Jareth. You saw him and you were disappointed. You wanted him to look like me. Why?"**

**Why, indeed. "It was just the surprise. I knew he didn't look very much like you, but after years of thinking of him as your brother, I had hoped. Perhaps with a few of your features?"**

"**Oh. I thought you were going to replace me."**

**Odder and odder. Jareth doesn't like this dream. He tightens his arm around his Sarah, sheltering her, binding her, anchoring her- and himself- to this one moment. Leaning close to smell her hair and kiss the tangled strands. "I could never replace you, even by your twin, should you have one."**

"**Thank you." She seems to settle down. **

**Jareth waits for the next question. He knows Sarah. He knows it will come. **

"**What if he had looked like me?"**

"**It still would not be you, Sarah. Let me sleep."**

**She lifts her head, thumps him in the chest, and then composedly puts her head back down on the bruised spot as he hisses and jerks at the blow. **

"**Alright, alright. But only if you stop assaulting my person," he growls, pushing her away to rub at his chest, "I would not replace him with you. He doesn't look like you and even if he did, I would not take him in your stead because he is _not_ you. He doesn't think like you, act like you, talk like you."**

"**Oh." This time she does settle down, curling onto her side and her green eyes blinking at him.**

"**Will that satisfy you, Sarah? Are there more confessions you would like to beat out of me?" He really isn't going to let her forget that. **

"**Not tonight, Jareth. Did you like him?"**

"**He seems well enough."**

"**I didn't ask if he looked healthy, I asked if you liked him," Sarah says archly. Yanking the covers up and snuggling under them. **

"**And I said he seems well enough. I haven't seen Toby for fourteen years, either by his decision or by mine. I kept him safe as you asked. I kept him happy, knowing that you would want me to. What more can you demand of me?"**

"**The world," Sarah reminds him dreamily, "The stars. The sun. The very moon itself to be ripped from the sky and strung on a chain just for me to wear."**

"**All that and more, Sarah. Anything you want."**

"**You loved me so much?"**

"**I love you still."**

Sunlight and dappled shadows. He doesn't know where they come from and why there is overhead sunlight and dappled tree shadows in his bedroom, but he knows better than to question. This is a dream. He aches only in a dream and he loves her gently only in a dream and in a dream it has to stay. There is no other way for them. Not that he cares; dream or reality, in the Wishing Land the distinctions tend to blend too deeply.

**A finger touches his lips and he kisses it, simply because it's there and it's sweet and he wants to. **

**Sarah's lopsided grin and the way she just lies there and watches him, perfectly content to think her own thoughts and lose herself where he cannot follow. And so he sleeps, his senses disturbed and heightened by her fixed observations, but not unpleasantly so. **

**Sleep…**

**Waking to emptiness and pre-dawn darkness. **

Jareth looked around his room with a heavy sigh and pushed back the covers. He negligently pulled off his trousers and tossed them to the floor beside his bed.

His bed. It was a plain, though beautifully made and maintained, structure. The mattress was not unduly soft or unduly thick. The pillows were neither too numerous or Spartan. It was a comfortable bed made for comfort and sleeping. No silk sheets or velvet drapes were used here. Only cool cotton and crisp linen.

The state of the bed echoed his room- neat, simple, comfortable and made for utility by a pleasing hand. The wood was of the best, but no mythical or misty figure tainted the smooth-grained planes. The bed, the tables by his bed, the vanity in the corner, the chest at the foot of the bed, the window seat, the cupboard for his personal effects and even the door to his wardrobe that was set into the wall- all were of the same wood and the same simple craftsmanship. No paintings or wall-hangings marred the warmth of the wood panelling, just as no curtains or blinds marred the views from his window.

Jareth sat up in bed and swept his hair off his shoulders and up into a ponytail. He was tired, there was no doubt; the fantasy had been a very bitterly sweet one. Long ago he had learned not to question why he always dreamt of her as she would have been, how he had manipulated his mind into living the lie in dreams of an alternate universe in which she had allowed him to heal her.

Logically, he knew even he would not have been able to heal her. No one could have but Sarah herself, and Sarah hadn't wanted to. So the pills had been her cowardice as much as her only viable option. Yet what did logic have to do with love, he always sighed, when was life itself never logical? Those who thought in turns of logic were always ill-prepared for the best parts of life.

The dawn began to break.

Jareth heard a sound and frowned slightly. Had he not known better, he would suspect someone of creeping around outside his bedroom door. Another assassination attempt, was it? He drew the sword from its scabbard in the holder on the post of the bed and got slowly to his feet. He was undressed, it was true, but modesty was the least of his worries between life and death.

And yet… he looked from his sword to his door and got back into bed, laying the weapon across his lap, where he could get to it should he need to. Settling his back against the wooden headboard, he steeled himself and raised his voice. "If you are quite finished failing to be secretive, would you care to make yourself known?"

No answer. Movements froze. They had almost been past his door on the other side. Was he mistaken? Was there harm for someone else? His eyes narrowed.

"I know there is someone just beyond my door. Believe me when I say it's the work of a moment to discover your identity in a crystal if you will not enter."

The door handle turned and his left hand found the reassuring weight of the hilt. The door opened and a shock of severely restrained blond hair poked itself in, followed by a rueful smile and a pair of green eyes.

"I am sorry, Jareth. I didn't mean to wake you," Jervohl offered, "Good morning, however." She looked genuinely astonished when she saw the sword across her relieved brother's lap.

The Goblin King looked pointedly at his window, where dawn was not yet breaking. "Not," he huffed, "for another twenty minutes at least. For some of us, it is still the middle of the night."

"Really? Well, some of _us_- who don't sleep with swords in our beds, might I add- like to wake up early so we can get some practise done with the swords that have been so neglected all night."

Jareth raised an eyebrow as he looked up from putting the sword back in its scabbard. In truth, he was thankful not to have to use it. He was a fair enough swordsman, but probably not good enough for an assassin. People seemed to think he warranted the best, when really an averagely good one would do as well. He made a note to include it in any public speech he made next; it wouldn't do to overprice someone for his death.

"Jareth? Are you alright? You look tired." The woman came further into the room though she stood only a few steps into the doorway.

Jareth shook his head and shrugged. "Not a restful sleep," he admitted, "Too heavy and too… intense. I woke up feeling worse than last night."

"You know what the problem is?" Jervohl said. She put her hands to her hips as she stared knowingly at the fae male, "You don't get enough exercise. You just lounge from one seat to another and one mild walk to another and at the most you rouse yourself to shout at someone. It isn't healthy."

"No? How terrible for me." Jareth settled back with a snort and a challenge in his eyes. Not enough exercise, it seemed! As if he were a little child all over again and his tutor had lectured him on the proper amounts of time he should spent in rapid activity in a day. The next request made him stop and reconsider.

"Yes, isn't it. Since you are awake, and you seem to be spoiling for a chance to use that pretty blade in a way you probably haven't since Rumpole passed to the afterlife, I propose a friendly duel between us two."

"Duel? As if we were children all over again? Not likely."

"Why not? What will you do when I go down to practise, Jareth- sit in bed and brood? What will I do if I go down for practise- swipe at thin air? It gets annoying after a while. Besides, I still owe you for- for the reason I cursed you."

"Ah. You have not forgiven me."

"Forgiveness is not required. It happened."

Mismatched eyes looked at her queerly, with a strange light in their depths. "Don't ever underestimate the ability to forgive, my dear. I can understand if you cannot, but I would still like to know that you understand I meant no harm by it. I was carried away." He could add that he had literally been carried away- into bed- by someone he'd gotten drunk with and who'd seemed to be making love to him so matter-of-factly that he hadn't thought to question the wisdom. He wouldn't ever say that.

"Be that as it may, I neither seek forgiveness nor offer it. Actions have their consequences and they are the strange pattern of this tapestry we call life," Jervohl laughed, her voice light.

The Goblin King hesitated, one hand on the covers, his eyes looked longingly at the sunrise just breaking on the dawn. The simplicity of a good duel might well be what he needed to exhaust his mind and relax the tension in his muscles.

"Jareth, perhaps you can think of this duel as a way for me to seek some form of closure?" his sister offered, "Think of it as seeking forgiveness. With the end of the duel, you may take it as granted that all residual resentment and hurt will be cleared up."

"Why is that?"

She moved for the door, dramatic as ever for her leave-taking. "Because I will have beaten you to the ground. Coming, Sire?"

The Goblin King waited for his sister to leave the room, a thoughtful smile hovering on the corners of his lips. Spiteful little minx! Oh, but he had missed his little sister. The fights and the laughter; she was family and he had missed her brightness. He could only imagine how her life had changed for her to be up at dawn, religiously practising with her weapons even though she had no more need to carry them. And for that and more he did feel guilt.

"Very well, then. Let us see her go head-to-head with you, shall we?" He lifted the sword from its wooden holder beside his bed and held it, a gentle hand running over the leather scabbard in a way they hadn't done for too long. Far too long. All of a sudden, with a sudden resurgence of laughing green eyes and love, he smiled broadly and brought the weapon's hilt to his lips, laughing at himself as he did so. "Come, then, lovely one, and win for me."


	8. Surprise

Author's Note: Well, and so I'm back! For a while there I thought I would have to start again, but then I decided that that would be ridiculous. So bear with me; I'm going to be working the original beginning and my new stuff together. It should be painless, but let me know if you think I'm slipping up somewhere. Hope you guys like it.

-

"You're getting better, big brother," Jervohl teased, lowering her sword to pull Jareth to his feet. Jareth huffed before deliberately tripping her, smiling in satisfaction to see her sprawled in the dust.

Since that first wakeful morning, he'd taken to joining her by the light of dawn. After a particularly vicious night, he tended to need the distraction and for the past two days he hadn't slept at all well. Sarah still haunted him, rousing his emotions and his blood. Exertion was the only remedy to his restlessness.

He paused for a moment with a slight frown, looking down at the earth as if in thought.

"Jareth? You have to concentrate!" The flat of the blade smacked him hard on his rear and he yelped, spinning around to protect himself.

Jervohl smiled at him and unselfconsciously used her sleeve to wipe her face. "You keep _doing_ that. It won't help you to start dreaming. No opponent will wait while you decide what colour to wear to your next dance."

"Thank you. Need you hit so hard?"

"I did warn you that I was not going to be merciful."

"So you did," Jareth snarked, "Just before I had you flat on your face."

She tossed her head and raised her weapon. "You seem overconfident."

"And you seem arrogant."

Green eyes narrowed. "You haven't had to live by the sword as I have."

The blades clashed and in less than a moment it was over. Jareth stared in amazement from his empty hand to his sword a few feet away to the blade pointing at his heart.

"I win," Jervohl grinned, "Best out of three, then?"

The Goblin King felt himself slump mentally and shook his head. "No. I think you've had quite enough fun for one day."

"Jareth, if you were to actually coordinate your feet and your hands, you would find better balance," Jervohl soothed, "You are simply out of practise."

"Yes. Rumpole would be most distressed." Jareth picked up his sword with the words, finding them strangely bitter on his tongue. The lack of sleep was getting to him and he both longed for and dreaded the peace of loneliness.

"How do you feel?"

"My wrists ache. And my ribs."

She shook a finger at him. "You are severely out of shape. Shame on you!"

"However will I live this down," Jareth griped, "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to get cleaned up for…"

"Jareth!"

The Goblin King turned white and squeezed his eyes shut for a second's contemplation of the beauty of solitude before fixing a smile on his face and turning. "Elban. Beran. How nice of you to grace my…" he looked around, "Backyard. And so early."

The two dismounted from their koerns and Jareth nodded to the goblin grooms to take the animals away and tend to them.

"Jareth." Elban clasped his old friend on the shoulder and forbore to draw him into an embrace. And not just because of the sweat! He knew how much Jareth hated those intimate gestures. It had been quite amusing when they were younger of course, but with his lover there he didn't want to bring up old times. "Beran refused to sleep so we rode all of last night to get here as soon as we could."

"Remind me not to point out that the longest route from Fair Haven to my Castle is not much over four hours. That leaves half the night unaccounted for," Jareth remarked, winking at the smaller male who came to him.

The stockier male offered him a wry grin and bowed. "Good morning, Jareth. We seem to have interrupted you. Forgive the intrusion but Elban hasn't seen you for many weeks now."

Jareth felt his lips twist a little at that. He could well imagine his forest sprite of a friend had dragged the poor dwarf out of bed just passed midnight and forced him to ride to a place Beran did not wish to go, to meet people Beran liked but was not especially friendly with. Which reminded him!

"Elban, I think you should meet someone." He took the fae's hand and drew him to the small enclosure where his sister waited, frozen in apprehension and pride. "I believe the both of you remember Jervohl?"

The sprite stopped dead and turned ashen. "What?" The female drew closer to him, her hair clipped severely off her face. He would not have thought it possible. He had been meaning to tease Jareth about 'playing' with his new lovely lady, but this! "You are playing a trick on me, aren't you? Jareth? Tell me you are."

"Elban. It is good to see you again."

Beran drew closer as well, standing on Jareth's right with mildly shocked eyes. "Ms. Jervohl," he greeted, "You look better than I would expect."

She couldn't help but grin at that arch statement. "Yes. Luckily I wasn't as dead as everyone thought."

"Oh good. That makes it much tidier," Beran agreed, "No hassles with decomposing and such like."

"None at all, Beran." Jervohl sheathed her sword and climbed over the fence, stopping a few steps away from the new guests. Elban clung to Jareth's arm and took a healthy step back. "Elban, I really do exist. I know it is a shock, but you know Jareth's sense of the dramatic. He refused to let me tell anyone until _he_ was ready to announce it. But I am alive."

"I-I…"

Jareth let go of his friend's hand, as the grip got far too tight. He grimaced as he shook the pain from his limb and gestured to Beran. "He is your lover; _you _hold his hand."

Beran shook his head but took Elban's hand gently. The forest sprite was staring up at the fae female as if she were about to grow two heads and a tail. "Elban, you really need to stop staring. It's quite rude."

The words snapped whatever it was that held Elban frozen and he disentangled his fingers as he walked forward somewhat accusingly. Jervohl's arm felt real; her hair and face too. He rubbed his fingers, not sure whether to feel distaste at the sweat her skin had imparted to his or not. "You _feel_ real. How do we know you are who you say?" he demanded, "You could be anyone."

"Who just happens to look exactly like Jervohl, youngest sister to the Goblin King and daughter to the Lady Pandora?" Jervohl pointed out.

"Glamors."

She took off the ring set with her powerstone and handed it to Jareth. Nothing about her changed. She held her arms out at her sides, looking down at herself with a desperate kind of humour. "Does this convince you?"

"No! No, I won't have this. You have done something! Jervohl never wore her hair like that, or those clothes." Elban knew his voice was rising but he did tend towards the excitable. "She would wear a gown, and she wouldn't…"

"Even I, as I was, never wore a gown to practise my swordskill with. Elban, I know it is hard but I really am alive. I never died. I was captured on a raid in the quarry by Gildred's men and forced to serve him for nineteen and a half years. You have to believe me."

"No! Beran, you can see it, can't you?"

"I see this is a shock," the dwarf said easily.

Jareth came forward and tapped Beran's shoulder. "Take him inside," he whispered, bending down to whisper in his ear, "I told the servants to expect to take you straight to your rooms. Food and drink will be brought there."

"Thank you. Come on, Elban." Beran tugged his lover along to the Castle, still clasping one delicate hand in both his own. "We need to change and eat something. Take a bath and get out of those dusty clothes and you'll feel better, my lovely. Come on."

The two disappeared out of sight and Jareth turned back to his sister with an enquiring look. She met it with a dark one of her own, anger and pain and pride in her green eyes. Without a word she climbed back into the pen and drew her sword. Jareth moved to follow her but she held up a hand.

"Don't even try, Jareth. I won't be responsible for killing someone."

He nodded and turned to leave. The sound of sweeping sharp metal whistled through the air and he ignored it. No doubt she was shadow-duelling. Only he had her ring still in his hand and he wondered whether it would be worth it to interrupt her only to give it back. He decided against it. She needed this time, even if she had to fight thin air instead of a shadow.

Besides, he needed to persuade Elban that he wasn't mad, nor was he trying to send his friend mad. Elban was excitable like that. Thank God, at least Beran was here for this! The last time Elban had been so upset, he'd run into the Labyrinth and disappeared for three days until Jareth found him starving and terrified almost at the other end.

Pandora met him in the entrance hall and caught him before he could excuse himself. "Luka has arrived," she said expressly. Then she looked him up and down and removed her hand from his slightly damp shirt. "Did you fall into a body of water that escaped your notice? You haven't done that since you were six. And you smell."

The Goblin King made a mental note to talk to his mother about mentioning such things. "No, I didn't fall into anything. Jervohl challenged me to a duel."

She smiled mischievously and tilted her head in much the same mocking way he did. "How long did it last?"

"Three minutes," Jareth sighed, "I haven't practised for a while. Jervohl has gotten better, damn her."

Pandora laughed and then caught him again before he could try to pass her. "Please be kind to Luka. I know he is early but he is Toby's lover. For Sarah's sake treat him well." She didn't fail to notice the veil that slipped down over those eyes. She'd seen it happen too many times not to know about it.

"I won't say anything too rude," Jareth promised, "Where is the little rodent?"

"Jareth!"

"Mother, if you are going to try to…"

"Alright, alright! I know- 'behave yourself and stop interfering'. You never listen. You don't have to see him too soon, however; he went up to Toby's room."

The Goblin King smirked and cast an interested eye up the sweeping staircase.

"Do not even think about it," his mother warned, shaking a warning finger in front of his nose, "I knew you would find a way to ruin it."

"Will you desist, woman! I have enough to worry about without you whining in my ear! Elban is… for pity's sake, I forgot. Mother, could you get Toby to keep Luka out of Elban and Beran's way? They both arrived a few minutes ago as well. And you know of their feud, I suppose."

"Merciful love, but what possessed any of these three fools to arrive so early?"

"I don't know. But Elban is running wild again. I told him about Jervohl and he refuses to believe it. Beran has taken him to their rooms for the rest of the morning. I was just on my way to check on them."

"Will they need anything?"

"I sent a message to the kitchens for food and drink to be sent to them. Perhaps you could go and talk to them? Elban will believe you."

The lady nodded and swept away up the stairs. Jareth watched her go with a resigned smile. He hadn't expected her not to get involved; it was asking too much of her. His mother enjoyed life and drama and couldn't stand not to interact with other people. Jervohl had once been much the same. Strong women, the both of them. He only hoped that the week ahead would go as planned. At least, he reminded himself, Serenity was to arrive by nightfall at his express pleas. He would appreciate her assistance, in more ways than one.

A sound of footsteps and he panicked. Quickly ducking behind the drapes that hidhis private staircase at this time of the morning, he hoped to heaven he didn't have to talk to anyone just yet. He just wanted a bath!

"Oh, it's been so long and I missed you so."

"Luke, you only saw me a week ago."

"But it was such a _long_ week! All of seven days, darling."

Darling? Jareth hid a smirk in his sleeve. Of all the nauseating endearments! He wilfully shut his eyes to the fact that he would have called Sarah any endearment under the sun himself.

Apparently Toby thought so too- "Don't call me that, Luka. I've asked you that before."

The smirk swept away. Jareth peeped out. The two were standing in the entrance hall as casual as you please. Or at least, the slender fae with the honey-brown hair and startlingly bright green coat was. Toby was just standing, looking down with a kind of absent-minded amusement, his hands at his side as the shorter man- who really was actually about Jareth's height- babbled on about something.

"Yes, yes, I know," the mortal eventually broke in, smiling ruefully as if he had done this far too many times before to feel any more irritation. "Do you never stop talking?"

"Sometimes," came the arch reply. A body was pressed very close to the tall one. "When I am otherwise occupied."

Blue eyes smiled and Toby put an arm around Luka and drew him out the doorway.

Jareth let out a relieved sigh and then straightened as he saw Jervohl enter. Really, his Castle housed far too many people for his liking. He couldn't even leave the privacy of his personal staircase without running into someone. How Jareth longed for the days when he had walked the Castle without meeting a single soul for hours on end.

His sister stopped hesitantly as if she sensed the pair of eyes on her and then she shook her head with what looked to be disgust, muttering something to herself, and stormed up the stairs.

Jareth rubbed his forehead where a dull ache was making itself known and turned, swiftly making his way up the stairs with the ease of someone who had done it for a lifetime. The ring in his pocket could wait for a while.


	9. Gildred

Author's Note: A little shorter than the other chapters, but since this is the fourth rewrite, I hope you will forgive me. I'll have the next chapter up very soon.

Author's Note 2: I changed Toby's age. He's not twenty-two; he is not twenty-four. He will turn twenty-five on the last day of Jareth's ball. You'll see why soon enough.

Jareth holed himself up in his study for the rest of the day. On the desk before him were two things- Jervohl's ring and Sarah's photograph. Women, he eventually surmised, were creatures he would never understand.

Now men were fairly simple… somewhat… once you learned to read them… once you understood them… all right, men were just as bad, but at least he knew how he himself reacted to certain things and therefore had _some_ point of reference.

Jervohl was not telling him something, of that he was certain. It wasn't so much that he could sense it, but it was clearly obvious. Had Jervohl been tortured or threatened, she would have said so. No, it was not torture. Something haunted her, but Jareth could not quite see what. Even Gildred was not a complete monster. The Goblin King understood his brutality; one had to be brutal when governing the outlaws. They had no sense of honour, no sense of law. To rule them, the fae would have to be worse than them.

Hence it was not fear or pain that she remembered.

What else could make a woman feel so angst-ridden?

A slow smirk made its presence felt, only to disappear again. Jareth sincerely hoped that it was not what his active imagination had tossed up. If Jervohl had somehow managed to fall in love with the man who haughtily claimed himself to be a direct descendant of the Sky Spirits, then more fool her. And more trouble for him.

He shut his eyes a minute and checked over his lands for the umpteenth time. He could expect Gildred to pay him an unannounced little visit in hot pursuit at any moment. In fact, the fae was approaching the Castle. Jareth sighed and opened his eyes. As per usual, his gaze automatically drifted to Sarah's bright smile. It was still… No, 'beautiful' was the wrong word because it was so much more than that. It was alive! That was it! Alive!

"What do you think, my dear? Shall I do something about this mess?"

His overactive imagine replied on her behalf. He nodded and took himself away, landing in a silent cat-like crouch wherever it was that Gildred was.

Straightening up, he grimaced. He had a liking for black too, but those black cloaks really were hideous. He made a mental note to have a very serious word with his rival on the state of his clothing.

Gildred sensed him, however- a very easy thing to do when the male standing behind you starts humming a flippant little tune- and whirled. Only to find a very pleasant smile of welcome on the Goblin King's face. He lowered his crossbow and waited.

"Welcome to the Underground, Gildred of the Sky," Jareth murmured, unable to help using that amusing little title.

Gildred's grey eyes, if possible, went even colder. "I apologize for trespassing," he said bluntly, "But I need to speak with you."

"Does creeping past my guarded defences count as an act of aggression or of peace?" Jareth mused aloud, clasping his hand lightly behind his back, "My lamentable memory; I never could remember. However, since there is only one of you and there are more than enough of my troops, I'll overlook that. What did you want, Gildred?"

"A word with you, Your Majesty."

"Ah? Well, then, I propose we get back to the Castle. I don't remember seeing you eat anything very much over the last four days."

"I hadn't the time. And I am hungry."

Jareth conjured up a crystal and turned it to a peach, offering it with a smirk. "Try this. I believe they are equal to your apples."

Gildred looked from the fruit to his host. He suspected Jareth. The Goblin King was never this pleasant even when they agreed. He was stern and cold and stiff. It was rather a surprise to see him so charming for once. Though Gildred wasn't the least bit fooled; there was a sharp detachment in the mismatched eyes that did not speak of good nature. Jareth had an agenda.

"The peach is not poisoned, my Lord. If I wanted you dead I would have said so by now," Jareth snapped.

The outlaw swallowed his suspicions enough to accept the offering. But he put it into a pocket instead and challenged the Goblin King to dare say a word about it.

Jareth shrugged. It was no harm to him if Gildred wanted to starve himself. He wasn't doing this out of any finer feelings on his behalf. Through some sense of warped logic, he did it because Sarah would have wanted it. And since Sarah was everything good and conscientious, he followed what he believed her opinion would have been. Her opinion in this would no doubt have been to let his sister work out whatever seemed to be worrying her. He could always throw the outlaw into an oubliette later.

"What do you want to speak with me about?"

"There is something I haven't told you, Your Majesty, for a very long time," Gildred said uneasily, "About your sister."

"For whose death you accepted the blame for," Jareth replied promptly, "Yes, I know. And you may rest easy. She returned here six days ago in good health, if a little changed from when last I spoke with her."

"Then you know."

"I know what she has told me."

Grey eyes flicked to watch the Goblin King's face. "An evasive answer."

"It would tell you a lot if you read it right," Jareth said smugly.

"Words are not my forte, Goblin King; swords are." It was pleasantly said, but the warning was thinly veiled.

Jareth had been prepared to be pleasant for Jervohl's sake, but he wouldn't stand to be threatened. And not by any upstart outlaw from beyond his lands. In seconds, the vines of the forest were wrapping around the fae with the red hair, trapping him securely even as he cursed and made to evade their clutches.

"Struggling does not help," Jareth recommended, "We are equally matched, you and I. But this is my Kingdom and I do have the advantage. Are we clear?"

"Get these thrice-cursed plants off me!"

Jareth obliged.

"I understand," Gildred snapped, taking off the cloak to untangle it from a few thorns. "Your Majesty, I did not come here to fight you. I only want to speak to your sister."

"Why?"

"We have things to say to each other," he said, "I ask for your tolerance only until such time as I can speak with her in private for a few minutes."

"If I refuse?"

"I will contrive some way. I've done so before and I'll do so again."

This time, the threat was not an empty one. Yes, Gildred had once infiltrated the Goblin Kingdom, if only to prove grimly to the Goblin King that he could do so. And in all probability, he would not be able to do it again, but Jareth was not in the mood to be on constant alert. Staying constantly in that state of awareness of his lands and his labyrinth for days on end was not the way he had envisioned spending the next two weeks. Especially not when Serenity was almost with him.

So he had a decision to make. Actually, he had two decisions to make in this situation and another two to make in the other situation. But both would benefit from having his sister free from her frustratingly dramatic inclination to either kill someone or burst into tears. And really, if Jervohl could be happily dispensed of to a place where she did not get under his feet, Jareth was prepared to foster even a relationship as ill fated as the one he imagined would well be sealed soon.

"The sun is almost set," he decided, "Would you care for a meal at my table? Jervohl will attend and you can speak with her afterwards. Oh, and I should warn you- I have a fae, a forest sprite and a dwarf as my guests, along with my ward and my mother. You will be expected to at least bathe and change, if not be polite company."

"Are you calling me uncouth and uncivilized?"

Jareth smirked and said nothing. "I will have a room prepared for you for the night. Oh, and when you see Jervohl, give her back this ring, please. I have absolutely no need for it." He handed over the ring with the pale grey powerstone and left the other fae male to follow him.

He sincerely hoped that Elban had not killed Jervohl just yet. Gildred would not be happy if he had come all this way for nothing. And there was still that ridiculous feud between Beran and Luka to be considered. And over and above all of this sorry state of affairs, was one very important decision to be made about Toby's twenty-fifth birthday in two weeks' time.

"Yes," he commented, "I must warn you, Gildred, that you are walking into a madman's world."

What would Sarah do, he wondered.


	10. Feud

Elban, for one, was very glad when the meal had ended. He was used to the strange silence of the Castle at the centre of the Labryinth, but the hyper-tension in the room was proving too much. Jareth was far too brusque- not, in itself, a big surprise- but enough so that his oldest friend was vastly suspicious of the thoughts in his head.

As for the rest! The forest sprite was convinced that he should leave. Preferably leaving Beran behind. The dwarf was having far too much fun growling at Luka's presence across the table. Elban was fair, however, and he would admit that Luka was provoking him. The two had fought three years ago about a piece of pasture that both insisted were entailed to their estates. The legal question hadn't been solved yet and Jareth had categorically stated that he had better things to do than take sides in such a ridiculous discussion. Luka had just lately thrown Beran's prized herd of koerns out of the pasture and installed fences preventing them re-entering. The dwarf was livid.

Toby seemed to find it quite as frustrating, though, and Elban shared a speaking look with the mortal.

The rest of the table was basically ignorant of any other individual.

Jervohl's knees had almost given out on her when she'd seen the male sitting opposite her. Jareth's brief order not to kill Gildred had been the only thing stopping her picking up the carving knife to put a fatal gash in him. Her mother was trying to make peace between the two of them, assisted by Gildred himself. Jervohl was having none of it.

Jareth tossed a last speculative look at his ward from the corner of his eyes, making his decision for at least one of the problems on his mind. "Toby, may I speak with you, please? Mother, I require you too."

All eyes turned to him. Luka frowned slightly and opened his mouth to say something but caught Jareth's level stare. He didn't say anything. Toby quirked an eyebrow and looked to the Lady. She shook her head and the two followed the Goblin King from the room.

Leaving, Elban dismally noticed, Beran and Luka glaring at each other and Jervohl and Gildred trying to ignore each other. "I'm going to bed," he huffed. None of the four paid him the least attention.

Jareth took his mother and Toby to a room that he had had previously prepared. "There is something of importance I need to discuss with you, Toby," he said, "About your future."

"I have already said that I am happy here," Toby pointed out, "There is nothing more to discuss."

"There is much more. I haven't been quite forthcoming with you, Toby. Some brandy? No? Then take a seat, please. Where was I? Oh, yes- your future." Jareth swirled the liquid in the decanter for moment and then put it down again, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. "There will be consequences if you choose to stay."

Pandora looked up sharply. She had kept her nose out of it so far because Jareth hadn't spoken to her. But now- "Consequences? What consequences, Jareth?"

Her son made a vague motion with his hands. She knew that motion; it meant he was certain of not bearing very good news.

"Toby must decide which world he belongs in," Jareth sighed, settling the lace cuff at his wrist, "Toby, you say you are happy here. At what price?"

"There is no price that I am aware of," the mortal replied cautiously.

Mismatched eyes flicked up to look at him in as straightforward a look as he had never known the Goblin King to use. "If you stay here, you do so as my ward. Do you agree to that?"

"I suppose so… once I know what the catch is."

Toby Williams was not stupid, Jareth knew that. He would prefer it if the mortal went back to his own world, but since he was too stubborn, Jareth was going to have to rouse himself from his self-interested saunter through life and get on with his social responsibilities. "As my ward, you approach your coming-of-age."

Blue eyes blinked in sudden recognition even as Toby's lower jaw dropped open at that blunt admission. "You are not serious!"

"I am very much so. Myself, I would not bother either you orI with this notion, but the Duke approached me not a month ago. He feels this is expected. Personally, I don't, but he is the Duke."

"That pompous windbag!" Pandora burst out, "This is ridiculous, Jareth. You know that Toby is a mortal. He's already an adult. A coming-of-age ritual is not necessary for him."

"I agree," her son said dryly, "Particularly since Luka seems to have taken on his education without any prompting."

Toby was still opening and shutting his mouth like a goldfish out of water. This time when Jareth silently handed him a glass with brandy he swallowed the lot without question. The alcoholic kick to the back of his throat finally loosened his vocal chords. "You are asking me to do something I have no intention of doing."

"No intention or not, as my ward you will go through with it." Jareth took the glass back and set it on the cabinet with the rest. "I take it you will go Aboveground now."

"No!"

The gloved hand paused in the act of putting the crystal stopper back in the decanter. "No?"

"No. I am _not_ running away from my home because some snooty old man thinks I have to mature from a child to an adult! He can take his opinions and choke on them. I am not leaving."

"Then you will select someone on the first day of the ball," Jareth commanded, a hand outflung to punctuate just how simple the choice was, "And you will live with this someone for a year while they teach you everything they know about adult life. That is the tradition."

"Be reasonable, Jareth! Toby cannot…"

"Then it's a perverted tradition," Tobybroke inquietly.

Jareth raised a cool eyebrow. His mother fell silent. She might have agreed with Toby on whether or not the mortal should be subject to the laws of Underground social norms, but she would not be a part of his rejection of it. "It is still our tradition," Jareth reminded his ward, "And if you will be a part of our society, you will follow our rules. I gave you the choice. You cannot have both."

"Why not?" Toby shot back.

A slow smirk greeted his words. "It seems a part of your sister does live inside you. Next you will say it's all so unfair. And I will have to tell you that that is life. Any other childish rages you need to utter?"

Toby froze and Pandora winced on his behalf. It seemed both her son and the child she had reared were well matched. They were both stubborn; they were both far too proud for their own good. She wondered if it really was the way she had brought them up. Jareth was looking bored with the situation already, and Toby was looking furious.

"Toby, dear, sit down. I know this is a shock, but we need to discuss this rationally." The mortal sat down, nodding briskly. "Jareth, you too."

"Thank you. I prefer to stand."

Pandora's blue eyes regarded her son balefully and reminded herself that it was too late to smack the back of his hand and send him to stand in the corner. She ignored him and turned back to Toby. "I understand how you feel, Toby. But you know the Duke. You know even Jareth is subject to him."

"Actually, I am not," Jareth interrupted, "But ordering the man to shut up and get out of my Castle is a bad idea. If I don't follow his suggestions, then I cannot force anyone else to do it."

"Strange," Toby commented, "Are you telling me that you are setting an example for your people?" He gave it all the scepticism such a notion deserved.

The Goblin King only smirked to himself once again.

"Enough, both of you! Jareth, is there no way that Toby need not do this?"

"As you very well know, all the other mortals here have been wished away. They are not in the Aboveground because that choice was taken from them. They convert within a year, mother," Jareth growled, "Toby, on the other hand, was not wished away. He chose. And therefore, he is still mortal and not a part of our society. But he is under my protection, and therefore a part of this family. He has a choice. You heard his decision- he will be a part of us and no more a mortal. It is not hard to comprehend, mother. It only takes a little effort."

Pandora turned impatiently away from him. "Be quiet. Toby, I have to admit my son has a point."

"Oh, he does," Toby agreed, composedly, "But I have not decided to give up my mortality. I am still a mortal."

"Then you can be a mortal in the Aboveground," Jareth determined. He folded his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. He was tired; he just wanted to go to bed. But something caught at his senses and he lost concentration for a moment, wandering away in his mind before drifting back a moment later with a grin. It was only Gildred venting some frustration in a magical burst of energy.

"Then send me away," Toby shrugged, "_I _desire to stay. I do not desire to be fae or goblin or centaur or sprite or any other of a score of the races that make up your subjects. I'm mortal. It's what I am."

"Your race does not give you definition," Jareth snorted, impatient with the direction of the conversation, "You are already more of the Underground than you realize."

"I owe the Underground for protecting me," Toby murmured steadily, "But I am still a mortal. I didn't choose to come Underground; you frightened a child into making a decision."

Pandora groaned and buried her face in her hands. Toby was asking for trouble and from the annoyance radiating from the Goblin King's direction, he would be receiving it very soon.

Jareth lifted a hand and took a firm hold of his medallion, fingers wrapping around it to caress the pure white stone that lay on the other side, lying against his skin. "Have a care to how you speak to me, Mr. Williams. My patience is almost over."

"I shall endeavour to show you the respect you deserve, Your Majesty." The cool words were a double-edged sword.

"The respect I deserve is as your saviour. Make no mistake- I saved you, Toby, and I can still order your death. I've had enough of this. You have two options- get out of my Kingdom and go back Aboveground, or stay here as one of us. I expect an answer by tomorrow."

He vanished without a word more, leaving his mother to deal with the cardboard-stiff man with the ice-blue eyes.

"Toby?" Lady Pandora ventured.

Toby said nothing for a long moment and then snapped out of that chilling rage that threatened to make him lose his mind. "Goodnight, My Lady," he said abruptly, "I shall see you in the morning."

And he too left.

Pandora gave up and had a glass of brandy to fortify her nerves.

Luka was waiting for his lover when Toby got to his room, half-asleep already and drowsy enough that he only held out a hand and scooted over beneath the sheets. The mortal sat down and tugged off his shoes, still stifling the urge to hit out at something or someone.

"He's made you angry, hasn't he?"

The soft question was sympathetic. Toby turned his head to see whether Luka meant to mock him. But the fae was just blinking sleepily at him, hazel eyes free of any triumph or amusement. That was very rare for Luka. His lover was always laughing at something or other.

"We had a disagreement," Toby allowed, turning around to put his shoes out of the way and get undressed. "How tired are you?"

Luka chuckled under his breath and sat up, crawling close enough to slide his hands down the mortal's back. "Not too tired," he grinned, "Just don't call me by Jareth's name, hmm?"

"Mention him," Toby threatened, "And I am liable to damage one or both of us."

"Ooo, promises! Come on, then, _mortal_. I challenge you to do your worst!"

For an instant, Toby almost did hiss and spit, even into his lover's pretty face. Mortal, indeed! As if that were all he was! That was exactly what Jareth had reduced him to- a mortal in the Underground- no power, no family, not even the privileges that all the races of the Underground were born with.

But it was fairly late at night. Toby didn't want to think any more. He would only lose his temper if he did. So he pushed the bitterness away and concentrated, smiling down at those wide hazel eyes as they slowly fell into the rhythmic quiet of making love.


	11. Serenity

"Toby, it's not even first light! Come on, darling; come back here."

"Luke, pulling at my shoulder isn't going to get you anywhere," Toby said reasonably, "Go back to sleep."

The fae pushed himself up on one elbow and pouted. "This always happens," he protested, "I barely see you and you're off playing with your sword again. Why do you never stay _still_?"

"Because, _darling_, unlike you, I have to keep myself useful," Toby snapped, "Part of my duty is to protect Lady Pandora, Luke. I have to actually know how to fight to do that."

"You do know how to fight. Stupid man! Always trying to make excuses! Very well, then, run away and play. See if I care."

Toby finished lacing his boots and sat still for a while, breathing quietly in the not-quite-dawn air. He was restless, edgy and still angry, and his boyfriend's temper tantrum was not helping matters. Logically speaking, of course, the best course of action was to leave the fae be and go out for his sword practise. It would do neither of them any good to argue in this testy mood.

"I'll come straight back," he offered awkwardly.

"Hmph," was all he received in return.

So Toby shrugged, carefully lifted the sword from its place beneath his bed and made for the door. Down the corridor… etc, he knew the route by heart now. He didn't even have to look for the markings. And he was so busy not looking for the markings that he ran- quite literally- into a very interesting person.

"Watch out!"

He almost took a tumble down the stairs. A beautifully crafted sword clattered to his feet.

"Ms. Jervohl? I am so sorry! I never saw you."

"It's that damned corner," she grumbled, "I told Jareth to put up a mirror on that wall so people could see when they were running into traffic, but do you think he listens? No." She stopped babbling. "Are you sure you are safe?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Er, are you…"

"Fine." She accepted the sword back with a pretty smile. "Thank you. What wakes you so early, Mr. Williams? Is everything all right?"

Toby raised an eyebrow at the female's unusual chatter but philosophically set himself to enjoy the company. "I am usually up by the dawn. There are things to be done for Lady Pandora that keep me busy. I use the early morning for practise." He indicated the weapon at his hip.

Jervohl nodded in understanding. "It is the best time," she remarked, "There is no one around to hinder you and the air is cool and fresh."

"Yes, it is."

They were silent as they reached the ground floor. But Toby stopped a servant and spoke to it in a rapid undertone in Goblin about something that his companion could not quite catch. It did impress her however and she said so, complimenting him on mingling so well with the world of the Underground. It was quite the wrong thing to say. One thing led to another and Toby bit out the few sentences necessary to explain what the Goblin King would ask of him that day.

By the time they reached the pen behind the Castle, Jervohl had guessed most of what Toby hadn't voiced and sympathized with what he had. Jareth wasn't the only one capable of reading people.

"It sounds perfectly horrible," Jervohl said, "And quite within Jareth's scope. In my brother's defence, I will say that he has little choice in the matter. The Duke has been elected by the people to keep the social norms and Jareth cannot overrule him without raising an incredible outcry."

"Which will certainly penetrate his thick skin," Toby murmured blandly.

Green eyes looked incredulously at him and then burst out laughing. The fae shook her blond head with merry humour as she rolled up her sleeves and placed the sheath of her sword carefully out of the way. Toby echoed her movements, reluctantly joining in her mirth since it was really too infectious on such a fine morning.

"You undoubtedly have my brother's measure."

"I hear a lot from people of all walks. You, however, are not mentioned much in your mother's house."

"Ah. That would be because my mother robustly places the blame for my supposed death squarely at my door." Those green eyes were still laughing, though the skin around them showed signs of sleeplessness. "She is a marvellously strong minded woman, the Lady Pandora. Jareth has her stubbornness."

Toby smiled and didn't reply.

But the conversation never really ended. When the grooms took the stabled koerns for their exercise and grooming, the two were still engaged in easy give-and-take, their tongues working quite as fast as their swords.

Unbeknownst to them, a peculiar conversation was occurring in Jareth's study at that very moment, concerning the eighty-four year old female dancing nimbly around the mortal with a clean flow of swift precision.

Gildred was desperate. Enough so that he had come to the study to find the Goblin King and have a serious talk with him. Gildred's version of 'talk' consisted of giving orders, or telling someone what their crimes were before sentencing them. He was not used to taking a seat before someone patently unafraid of him and humbly asking their opinion.

Naturally, his enquiries were anything but humble. As Jareth's tired replies were anything but humble either, they were well matched. It was only interrupted when Elban barged in without knocking, a cheerful song on his lips.

Both Jareth and Gildred glared at him.

"What?" he defended, "Pardon my interruption, but I only came to relay a message. Jareth- Serenity has arrived."

"Finally!" Jareth stood up and stretched, a little light-headed with lack of sleep, but clearly happy about something. "Where is she?"

"In the yard," Elban smiled, "Come see. Beran is just calming her. As you can imagine, she won't listen to a word he is saying."

Jareth laughed and whisked himself away, leaving his best friend with his enemy. Not that said enemy was any kind of threat at the moment. Even the tiny ceremonial scar on Gildred's left cheek was dulled and dejected. He sat there, hunched in on himself, his red hair long and loose and ragged as all fae wore their hair, dressed in customary black.

Elban debated leaving. "Um, are you alright, My Lord?" he asked cautiously.

Grey eyes flitted up to look at him, an unnerving amount of steel in them. But then Gildred remembered just whom it was he was addressing. The forest sprite standing so innocently before him had survived life as the Goblin King's oldest friend. He didn't think Elban would cower beneath anyone's gaze anytime soon. "I am fine."

"Is there something I can get you? I know it is not my place, but I can call a servant if you were to want for something. Jareth will be a little… busy." That delicate curve of the lips came and went like quicksilver, dragging humour behind it.

"Oh, I have no interest in speaking with Jareth. I would be grateful, however, if you could tell me where I may find his sister."

"Ms. Jervohl? She practises behind the Castle in the mornings."

Gildred sat up straighter, interest sparking into life. "Swordcraft? She practises here? Still?"

"Yes."

"Well, why did no one say so! Tell me the direction. I must speak with her."

Elban was taken aback. "I am not sure I want any part of this. Jervohl didn't seem to want to speak with you last night."

"Are you are defying me?" Gildred sounded breathlessly amazed. As well he was! It was something that rarely happened; and never in a situation where he couldn't torture the information out of whomever stood before him. Most of the outlaws in his lands could face down anything except a dark summons to his Castle. And here was a sweet-faced forest sprite, dressed in merry red and yellow, large eyes wide with innocence, and patently uninterested in meekly following orders. The outlaw felt his world disappearing out from under his feet just a bit more.

"Oh, merciful love, don't tell me you order people not to defy you too?" Elban burst out into a peal of laughter. "This is priceless! Oh, and Jareth has always insisted you two were nothing alike. But I saw the resemblance; yes, I did. And I told him so! I told them all and none would believe me. Defy you, indeed!"

Gildred snapped. Before he had thought, his knife was out and at the other male's throat. "My orders are no laughing matter," he hissed, "And neither is my business with Jervohl. Take me there this instance."

A slight hand simply fastened over his wrist and pushed. Now a distasteful frown was levelled at him. "If you knew how many times I have had a knife at my throat," Elban said tellingly, "It is the least of my worries."

"But this time your attacker is not afraid to use it," Gildred growled.

"No. But then again I am confident that both Jareth and Beran will avenge my murder."

"I can take an extremely swift means back to my own lands. Even the King of the Goblins would not dare to follow me there."

Elban shrugged. "Then I think you should meet Serenity."

Gildred gave up. The blasted sprite was chuckling again! Did he never stop? The outlaw was tired and frustrated and his mind kept wandering back to that certain face and that certain day and their certain conversation that had landed him into this mess in the first place. And the blasted sprite laughed!

"Does nothing make an impression on you?"

"Yes. Asking," came the dry answer, "Follow me. Since you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head, I won't inflict you on a goblin servant."

"I am not uncivilized!"

"You still have that knife in your hand and are yet to decide whether to sink it into me or not. I feel I can call you whatever I want. Come."

Elban led the way out, piqued and amused by turns. He wasn't particularly afraid of Gildred, though he would have harboured some resentment to being killed. Beran, for one, would not be happy about his messy end, were Gildred to use that knife. And there would be all sorts of complications and really, was violence so necessary? Elban did, however, concede that the blunt threats had some charm of variety; Jareth had threatened worse through manipulation. Loss of life was fatal, but not as bad as other types of loss.

So he led the redhead down the stairs and darted out the doors, quite delighted to find that the fae had no hesitation in keeping his light-footed pace. It was just another skill that contributed to his legend. After all, the taletellers whispered, whom else but the spirits of the sky had ever walked on the earth with so fleet a foot, so graceful a balance? Though the legends also said that the Sky Spirits were so light, they never left a footprint behind; Gildred certainly made tracks. They were hard tracks to follow, but they were there. Any forest sprite worth his salt could be able to follow with a little concentration and a lot of good sense.

By the time they reached the backyard, the servants themselves had congregated admiringly in a tight knot of grubby bodies in the shadows of the Castle wall, chattering amongst themselves. The guests of His Majesty were grouped around a creature unusual even in the Underground- a winged horse.

Jareth was cooing to the animal in a low voice, stroking the elegant nose and brushing his hand over the animal's gleaming charcoal coat.

But Serenity was still shying away, distressed by the strange people in what should have been a familiar place. The whites of her eyes were beginning to show.

Toby noticed Elban's appearance with Gildred in tow and felt Jervohl stiffen. He would have been blind had he not seen how the fae's appearance the night before had affected her and briefly he wondered whether or not he should poke his nose in. But then Jervohl had already detached herself with an abrupt growl and leapt back into the pen, her sword drawn out once more and her eyes fixed firmly on Gildred. Toby considerately walked away.

"Get back, the lot of you," the Goblin King snapped, capturing the wildly tossed head of his favourite mount and coaxing her with soft pats.

Most complied.

"Remove your gloves, Jareth," Beran suggested, "No one approached her with leather in my stables and she doesn't seem to like the feel."

Toby was very interested now. He had never seen Jareth's hands. The fae wore gloves throughout the day, apparently. He rarely took them off. But take them off now he did, and the mortal was impressed. Sarah had always mentioned the Goblin King's hands. Looking back, he could vaguely remember a dreamy look on her face.

'_And then he danced with me, one hand in my hand and the other hand on my waist. They were so soft, Toby, like- like velvet. But hard. You know? Like velvet on rock or something…_"

They certainly looked just as soft tangling in the silky mane and delicate feathers. Serenity seemed to appreciate them, at any rate, for she whinnied softly and nuzzled against the Goblin King's shoulder, drawing the first completely honest smile Toby had ever seen out of him. It was wide and unselfconscious- untouched by mockery or self-satisfaction.

Luka.

Toby sighed and raked a hand through his short hair. He'd promised to go straight back to his room and Luke being Luke, he'd stay there until that promise was kept. Serenity wasn't going anywhere. He could come back and gawk at her later. Besides, Toby had to make a choice- stay or go. And Luke needed to know so they could plan this together.

Naturally, Luka was going to be the one 'educating' him. It was a forgone conclusion!


	12. Protection

Author's Note: Since I changed Toby's age to twenty-four, he has spent almost sixteen years in the Underground.

* * *

The problem with forgone conclusions were that they took things for granted.

What Toby hadn't known, was that Luka's hands were tied. The fae was planning to make his fortune in trade and had made the necessary provisions for taking a cargo of Underground goods to the other side of the Sea. This, then, was the reason he had gone there in the first place.

Toby stared in shock at his anxious lover. "So- so you will not take this on?" he breathed, "But if you don't…"

"I want to, darling, believe me," Luka interrupted, his expressive hands waving wildly in the air, "And if I can get someone else to take charge of this, then I most gladly accept it. All I am saying is that I have no actual income of my own and this is a good way. I've been planning it for months; you know that. Believe me, darling, I will try my hardest to be here for you but I have commitments. I need to be on that ship."

"But… send someone else. Send Franja. He can oversee it. And Her Ladyship won't need him just now." Toby was well aware he sounded desperate but he had just cause. He would have to sleep with the person, for God's sake! Most of the time, it was all just a way of passing on the sexual prowess and knowledge of an elder to a younger. He was damned if he'd take anyone else into bed to teach him what he already knew.

"Franja _is_ needed right now," Luka sighed, "The renovations to the town have begun. Lady Pandora can't spare him. Though in these circumstances, perhaps I should ask."

Toby gave up. Lady Pandora would do a lot for him, he knew that, but she had her duties and unfortunately she gave them first priority. "I'll speak with Jareth about this," he said instead, "Perhaps living Aboveground won't be quite so bad. I am mortal. I suppose I can say I got hit on the head and don't remember where I've been for the past sixteen years of my life. My relatives should accept that."

"That incredulous?"

"That disinclined to care," Toby amended, "They haven't the time. Their own families were growing and there were bills to pay. They were always good to me, though…"

Luka managed to wriggle his way into Toby's lap. He dived in, twisting like a cat getting comfortable and cheerfully roused his lover from depressed pondering to help him out. After a few short but quite interesting attempts at limb rearrangement, they were settled.

"Are you done?" Toby asked, grinning just a little.

Luka tossed his brown head and ignored the sarcasm. "Darling, being depressed and dull has never helped anyone in any sticky situation before. We just need to think. Jareth is a painfully grudge-bearing, anal-retentive egomaniac, I know, but he is reasonable."

Toby blinked. "Anal retentive?" he ventured.

Luka sent him an expressive grimace. "Do you remember the dance we attended in Garlo's underwater palace? For the first day of the mermaids' new year? Do you remember how Merilin got drunk and regaled us with his experience of your oh-so attractive guardian?"

The blond nodded warily. It had not been the best two hours of his life but Luke had thoroughly enjoyed himself. It still astonished him to know that anyone actually could live like that, could openly endeavour to sleep with whatever crossed his fancy and still retain some semblance of respect.

"Do you remember how he bragged that the Goblin King offered himself on his stomach?"

Toby gulped. That was one he hadn't remembered- for good reason! He'd deliberately forced it from his mind.

"Well, that would be impossible," his boyfriend declared, jerking his hand across the air in sharp exclamation. "Jareth never does. He needs his security, his sense of superiority. He needs to know he is in control. Nothing on earth will induce him to give that up. Besides, he likes playing the alpha male role, no matter that it extends to a brief shag behind the curtain in someone else's empty dining room."

No, there really was nothing more to do but change the topic ever so hurriedly, Toby decided. "Experience?" was all he wanted to know.

Luka shrugged and grinned unashamedly- "Yes. A brief shag behind the curtain in someone else's dining room. Thankfully, the meal had ended and it was empty. But I think the servants were waiting for us to finish so they could clear up."

"You," Toby ground out, "Have no sense of shame."

"I never have," the fae protested, "And I told you so at the beginning. I can't see why I should be forced to deny myself something I wanted simply because it was the wrong time or place. Jareth propositioned _me_ on our way out of the room. I thought him attractive; I said yes. The curtained alcove was the nearest secret place."

"Could you not have waited for the night?"

The pretty face scrunched in mock thought. "His exact words were- 'I want you right now. Where can we go?' One does not tease the Goblin King when he is being forceful."

Toby moaned and covered his face with his hands. Of all the people in all the worlds in all the realms in all the dimensions, he wondered why he alone had been cursed with a guardian that had shagged his boyfriend in such an embarrassing manner even before he himself had been born. It read vaguely like the horrible romance tales that circulated amongst the younger women of the Underground. If it were, of course, Jareth would be evil and would try to break them apart and Toby would have to be rescued by his brave boyfriend.

Said brave boyfriend was still sitting solemnly in Toby's lap and playing with a lock of his own hair. No, Toby would have to rescue himself. He dropped his hands and took a deep breath.

"I will have to think about this, but I am almost sure that I'll be sent back to the Aboveground. Perhaps Jareth can allow me to live Aboveground as an 'adult' for a year and then return here. We'll see. At any rate, nothing will be accomplished by sitting in this tiny room. Get up. We're going out."

"Why?"

"To look at the pretty horse with the wings," Toby mocked.

Luka's eyes shone with delight. "Serenity's here! That means a trip through the Labyrinth is being planned."

"Why is Serenity so important?"

"Have you never listened to anything said about Jareth? This is his mare that he found when wandering aimlessly through the Labyrinth. He's raised her from a foal."

"Oh. Why does he not stable her here?"

"Goblins," Luka explained, "Most horses of that variety will not live so close to the Goblin City. He divides her time between the Castle and Beran's stables. She really is a beautiful advantage, both aesthetically and militarily."

"Militarily? A pretty little dark grey mare is going to be of much use militarily?" Toby looked a little sceptical as well he might. Serenity wasn't precisely little, but she was only one horse. There wasonly so muchshe could do alone.

"That pretty little dark grey mare, darling, is capable of the levels of power that lie much beyond an average person's scope. Nothing like the Chaos magic in the Labyrinth, but enough that she could be of great use. The only other creatures more magically capable are rare ones like the phoenix, unicorn and wingless dragon."

"Why _wingless_ dragons?" Toby questioned, a little dazed by the in-depth lecture.

"Because winged ones need their magic less for defence purposes, darling. Think just a little, hmmm? Now let me go and I shall endeavour to dress. Jareth won't remember you until this afternoon, when Serenity stops being quite so interesting. And I mean to have spirited you away by then."

"This is the Goblin King, Luke. He will be able to find me."

"Not if he falls into a brown study," Luka laughed, "I could swear that fae dreams away most of his life. If he were not so inclined to bite the nose off my face for spite, I would laugh at the way he constantly loses the conversation."

Toby smiled but said nothing.

Unfortunately Gildred didn't. He refused to be ignored, even when the woman he was facing was intent on slicing his head from his shoulders. Jareth had sent his audienceaway, asking Beran to personally stable the mare so Serenity would be comfortable. And there he stood, an eyebrow raised as his sister and his enemy tried to decide between undying love and undying hatred.

Not that he knew whether or not it was anything to do with undying love at all. Gildred had not said much, beyond abruptly probing for any information Jervohl may have let slip. For all Jareth knew, the unfinished business that drove them was a lost bet. In which case he hoped Jervohl would pay whatever was necessary and get rid of Gildred.

But the swords clashed once more. Clearly the war was not over.

"Jervohl, will you stop letting your wrist break so easily," the outlaw snarled, "I taught you better than that."

"If you wouldn't try to smash my arm with every blow," she panted. "For the love of mercy, just go away!"

"We… need… to talk." He bit back a growl as her sword almost skewered his shoulder.

Jareth sighed and rubbed his eyes, drifting away as he waited for the two of them to finish.

"We have nothing to say," Jervohl shouted, "Go away."

"They are not being reasonable," Jareth said out loud, talking to himself in lieu of standing alone, "It would go easier if they spoke."

"So help me, I will bludgeon you to the ground if that is what it takes to stop you running," Gildred shouted back.

"And so he threatens her," Jareth muttered, gesturing to the two, "I ask you, does this make sense?"

"I am done talking. I spoke to you for too long, Gildred, and I won't do it now. You had your choice and you made it."

"What choice? I _had_ no choice!"

Jareth cringed and shook his head- "Wrong thing to say."

"Oh, yes, you did! I _deserved_ that promotion! I _worked_ for that promotion! And you gave it to Madigh? Are you insane? The bloody parasite cannot even spell! What good is he going to do you?"

"He was the senior officer. Besides, you wereleaving," Gildred reminded her.

"I cannot believe this," Jareth said, "My little sister is pining for a lost opportunity to work for my foe."

"STOP DOING THAT!"

The Goblin King looked up with a start, mismatched eyes wide with feigned surprise at the two death glares directed at him. "I'm sorry. Am I intruding?"

Gildred muttered something and clutched a hand to his chest.

Jareth barely had a split second to bring up his defences, but he managed. Still, the effort of deflecting the curse thrown his way pulled a grunt from his throat. "Wrong choice again, Gildred."

But instead of throwing a curse- before he could even do so- a high-pitched squeal of outrage trumpeted and Serenity burst back out.

Jareth took one look at her and stood back. "I suggest you run," he said simply.

Gildred's eyes went comically wide and then he vanished, leaving Jervohl to stamp her foot and dash towards the Castle. Serenity was still snorting with irritation and fear, worrying the Goblin King's coat with her teeth, dragging him backwards.

"Calm down, Serenity," Jareth said impatiently, "I'm hardly in any danger now. He did not mean it. Relax." He turned and soothed her as best he could, unable to keep another grin from his face as he took in the sight of a very angry dwarf limping towards him. "Are you hurt, Beran?"

"You _think_ this is funny," the dwarf snapped waspishly, "You try getting bowled over by a horse."

Jareth chuckled and kissed Serenity. "My girl, eh? Did he get you so upset? My poor Serenity. And you were so tired, hmmm?"

"Of course," Beran pointed out to no one, "He speaks comfortingly to the _horse_!"

"Would you like me to kiss your nose and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, my friend?"

His 'friend' drew back in alarm at the thought.

"Then do not complain. My head hurts enough as it is." Jareth's tone was still soft but his voice was serious, even with the smile that he wore for the mare. "Have you broken anything?"

"Nothing of much importance. Why does your head hurt?"

"Lack of sleep, Beran. What else?"

A troubled glance was directed his way as Beran paused in the act of checking over Serenity's legs, anxious over potential damage when bursting out of a shut stable door. Horses and koerns were alike in that respect, their legs were all-important. If those were damaged beyond repair, they would have to be humanely killed.

"The dreams still plague you, Jareth? I had thought they would fade."

"No." The answer was too quick, too emphatic. It was out of keeping with the Goblin King's cold character. He was not meant to show this much vulnerability. "Serenity seems restless."

"She senses your ill-health."

"I am not sick."

"Physically, maybe. Mentally, I think you are as close to disappearing into your own head as ever. And time makes even your defences weak. Does the Lady know?"

"The Lady does. She thinks me a fool." Serenity snuffled and nudged him. "Admit it, Beran, most do."

"That I cannot say."

Another short laugh. "Do you think I do not hear? I don't care, my friend. I never have. Let them say what they want about me. I find it amusing!"

"You would," Beran grumbled, straightening up with a groan, "Here. She is yours. I think she misses you too, you know. She acts as good as gold with me, but the minute she is here, there is no one that can touch her but you."

"She is my girl," Jareth mocked, "Who else should touch her but me?"

Beran shook his head in amusement. It was just another enigma to everyone, Jareth included- the beautiful mount that kept jealously to his side, even when the most beautiful women could never manage it. What was it that made people want to be a part of the Goblin King's life? Certainly not the way he treated people. None but Sarah had ever extracted thoughts of forever from the hidden recesses of his brain. And even she had never heard the actual words until she was dying.

Ah yes, the mystery that was the Goblin King. Beran was very thankful that Elban was uncomplicated, sunny, and very prone to saying whatever was on his intelligent mind. Quirky, perhaps, but there was a strong difference between unique and aloof. The two best friends were as alike as earth and water; Beran was sure he had the best part of the equation. Pity take the poor fool that decided to tame the Goblin King.


	13. Decisions, Decisions

The opening ball was held that night and the Castle was filled to the brim with people from the upper echelons of society. The dance was starting in two hours and Lady Pandora struggled to get dressed in time. Eloise, naturally, was in her element.

"I recommend the ivory gown, My Lady," the goblin said, bustling around with ribbon and fresh flowers.

Pandora stuck her tongue out at her personal attendant's back as she twisted around to get the corset on. She hated the things, but was at least thankful that the ones used in the Underground weren't constructed to turn her two sizes smaller, as the ones in the Aboveground were rumoured to do. At least these just fit properly.

"May I?" Eloise fastened the hooks efficiently down the back and adjusted it properly. For a three hundred and eighty two year old female, the Lady Pandora was still beautiful. Given, of course, that she had had children as well. Three to be precise; one had ascended to the throne, one had died, and one had vanished and returned dragging an outlaw behind her. "The ivory or the green, My Lady?"

Pandora stared between the two and wrinkled her nose. "The Ivory, I suppose. I wore the green at the last ball."

Eloise nodded and helped her into it, settling the slender skirts to fall perfectly. "There! Will you wear jewellery or fresh flowers, My Lady?"

"I might as well wear my jewellery while I'm still alive, I think. I'm too old for fresh flowers, Eloise."

"If I may suggest it, My Lady, adding a single white lily in you hair just… here, will look wonderful, My Lady. Quite stylish."

The fae sighed and threw up her hands. "As you wish, Eloise."

The goblin lady looked astounded. She had expected to have to manipulate to get her own way. Usually the Lady Pandora was very firm in what she wanted or liked. And she usually _didn't_ wear flowers. For most females of her age, fresh flowers only drew the eye to the minor signs of aging that singled them out from the fresher faces of the young females. But here the fae lady sat, preoccupied in her own thoughts, a worried crease between her fine brows and an absent-minded murmur for anything Eloise might choose say.

"My Lady, are you alright?"

Blue eyes flashed up, startled at the concerned tone, gentler than any Eloise had ever yet used. "Hmmm? Oh. Yes, Eloise, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Feel ill, do you?"

That seemed to snap whatever daze clouded the blue eyes and Pandora straightened her shoulders and stubbornly shook her head. "Not in the least, Eloise. I don't need any more assistance, thank you. Could you go and see to my daughter? This will be her first public appearance since her return and she will need help."

The goblin nodded and left, bobbing a short curtsey on her way out.

Pandora tapped her fingers impatiently on her dressing table for a few minutes as she wrestled with some decision and then she got regally to her feet. Fastening a slender gold chain around her neck, she picked up the fan that was the latest fashion and exited her room.

Asking directions from the first goblin she saw, she made her way to her adopted son's room. It was risky going anywhere near there, when Toby had Luka staying with him, but the cause was worth it.

"Come in," Toby's deep voice called.

She entered and smiled as Luka suddenly squeaked at the sight of her. "Oh, stop being so melodramatic, Luka. I have raised a son, you know."

Toby finished buttoning the cuffs of his shirt and came forward with a welcoming smile. "My Lady. We, er, weren't expecting you, were we?"

"No. How are you doing, dear?" She twitched his collar into place and noted the wry grimace twist his lips. "It was a nasty shock. I am sorry you have to endure this. If there were some way that I could persuade Jareth otherwise, I would do so. But you know my son the Goblin King- he is a stubborn donkey."

"Yes, Jervohl did say he took after you," the mortal laughed, jumping backwards before the good-natured slap could descend, "But insults aside, I can see why he is doing this. It is hard, but I suppose life is like that."

The lady cocked her head to glare at him sternly. "You are taking this far too easily, you know. I expected you to feel angry. Enraged, even! And betrayed!"

"Unfortunately, His Majesty was rather in the right. I cannot go around raging childishly at anything bad that comes my way. My boyfriend, too," Toby tossed an amused look back at Luka, "Told me that no problem was solved by being dull and depressed. So I'll have to go along with it."

Pandora sighed in relief. Toby would be fine, considering he had been disgusted when they had attended Lady Harenet's daughter's coming-of-age ceremony two years ago. He'd been a little worried that he'd be expected to have one as well and she had laughed the worry away, pointing out that he was mortal and anyway, Jareth had not broached the subject.

Staying to chat amiably enough, she eventually took her leave to go to check on Jervohl's progress. Shutting the door, Toby slumped on the other side and raked his hand through his hair, closing his eyes for just one brief moment. Luka was with him in a second.

"You should have told her," the fae reproached, "She could have helped us. And she deserves to know first."

"I know. I meant to, but… I don't want to do this," Toby muttered, "That bastard! If he hadn't ruined everything!"

"You do not have to leave, Toby. You could stay here. It would just be for a year," Luka coaxed, tugging his lover to the nearest chair, "Sit."

"But you can't do it with me."

"So? I will be away for most of the year in any case. There are a lot of nice people who won't mind being asked to educate you."

Toby snorted. "Right."

"Why not? You're the Goblin King's ward. And you are hardly hideous. What about Merilin? He likes you. He would be fun to spend a year with."

Toby frowned and shook his head. "Wouldn't you mind if I slept with someone else while you were away? It is more than just books and worldly wisdom; remember? This person is going to, well, teach me about sex. Not that you have actually left very much for them to do, but that is the tradition."

"It is no concern of mine, darling," Luka pointed out, "It is your body. And I will be away from you for a year in any case. This is an open thing; we're neither of us committed to each other."

"We're not?"

"Not in terms of forever, darling. If you want or need to sleep with someone else, by all means do so."

"And you? You'll be away from me for a year too. I take it you will cheat on me." Toby wasn't quite sure he liked the sound of this. It confused him.

"I won't cheat on you. But if someone catches my eye for a night, then yes. Or need I ask your permission first? Is this another of your mortal peculiarities?" The fae laughed and picked up his coat, slinging it over his shoulder as he surveyed the rather bitter glare on Toby's face. "Cheer up, darling. Remember I do love you. That won't change if I have sex with someone else."

"It might. If I am not there and this person is. Do you never worry that I might end up liking this person more than you? After all, we _will_ spend a year together in very close quarters."

Luka flicked the away with his slender fingers, clearly amused by the very thought. "Not in the least. In any case, neither of us know that we are meant to last forever. Now stop brooding and make up your mind. Either you go Aboveground or you choose someone. We need to decide in…" he looked at the clock between the windows, "… a half an hour."

"I- I suppose I should go Aboveground," Toby said quietly, picking an imaginary piece of nothing off his sleeve, "It would be easier for all of us if I did."

"I wish you would stay, darling."

Luka really did look regretful at seeing him leave. Which did make up some of the disturbing hurt from hearing how casually his boyfriend took their relationship. Toby shrugged. "I wish I could. I'll tell Lady Pandora downstairs."

Luka sighed heavily and left it up to Toby. Toby, after all, was the one who would have to make his own decision. The fae was not about to make them for him. It would be inconvenient, but they could work some way around it… if they still wanted to after a year. "Let's go, then. We're done here."

The ballroom awaited them, filled with throngs of glittering people. Centaurs and mermaids had taken two-legged form and walked amongst them, slight accents or outright different languages flowing around the marble room. Elemental spirits mingled with earth creatures and even a few mortals, the latter group waiting for their conversions and still shy about being where they were. Toby made a mental note to talk to them; they might tell him more about the world he was returning to.

He caught a glimpse of Lady Pandora floating from one group to another, welcoming them all in Jareth's name as she played the unofficial hostess, just as she always did. Her eyes were lit up with pride and satisfaction; she never seemed happier than when she had some purpose, some task to bear. Jervohl was not to be seen just yet. Neither was Jareth. Gildred had refused an invitation, according to Elban, who stopped to whisper a good-natured good luck to the mortal as he passed by on his way to retrieve Beran from the stables where the dwarf had hidden himself.

"It's crowded," Luka commented, "Jareth certainly knows how to throw a party. Oh! Garlo!" And he was off, slithering like a graceful little snake through the various people he knew to reach his particular group of friends on the other side of the room.

Toby just stood and watched for a while, taking it all in.

Evergreen wreaths and delicate gold filigree; white marble; crimson carpet on the stairs; soft light; open windows to the star-speckled sky; rustling satins and silks; swishing velvets and cottons; the colours of the rainbow; hearty laughter and sweet whispers; the scent of flowers and spices- yes, the Goblin King certainly did know how to throw a party. This beat everything Toby had yet attended. The alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages had not yet been brought out. They would not, until the dance really began.

Leaning against a pillar, Toby felt his spirits drop again. He didn't want to leave all this. His life was fine as it was. He had his luxuries and his delights, but enough work to feel worthy of them. He had friends and acquaintances enough for his needs. He had a lover. He had the closest thing to a family that an orphan could wish for. Why did it have to be ruined by a pompous old water sprite in a white powdered wig? And speaking of the Duke, where was he? Surely he would want to be here to hear about the return of the Goblin King's sister, and to smile benevolently when the King's mortal ward chose to return to the Aboveground rather than flout the ages-old traditions of his adopted homeland?

The feel of something tapping against his shoe caused him look down quickly, only to find a crystal bumping impatiently against his ankle. Wondering if he were going mad, he reached down and picked it up.

The crystal glowed and began to pull his hand along out of the room. Confused, Toby followed his hand. It was little wonder that the crystal led him to a room on the second floor; a room that the little housekeeper had pointed out in awe-struck reverence as the King's study. No one was allowed in there unless he invited them. The door swung open as he reached it.

"Toby? Yes, come in."

"Your Majesty," Toby said politely, more because the crystal had just melted in his hand, leaving a very shivery tingle on his palm.

"Toby, this is the Duke," Jareth introduced, not wasting any time, "Your Honour, this is my ward, Toby Williams."

"Mr. Williams. It is a pleasure to meet you," the old water sprite in a wig said.

Toby shook hands, staring down at the wrinkly old thing that had caused all this mess in his life. A sudden rifle shot of anger buzzed through his head. Interfering old bastard! "A pleasure," he said shortly.

Jareth was still in his shirtsleeves, and paused in the act of shaking out his waistcoat. For some reason he had chosen to wear a rather heavy suit, but even his irritation at himself silenced at the sound of that cold tone. He decided to take charge of the conversation before his 'ward' threw the Duke out the door.

But the Duke was already talking- "Fine young man such as yourself, I'm sure everyone is falling over themselves to be chosen, eh?"

Toby raised a cool eyebrow. "Not at all," he said repressively, "I spoke to no one about this decision. Except my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" The Duke looked properly scandalized. "What boyfriend? Your Majesty? Surely the boy is too young to have a boyfriend?"

Jareth tossed Toby a quick glare. "I was unaware that he had one until recently, being that I trusted my mother to raise him. In the Lady Pandora's defence, it did not occur to her that a mortal would be subjected to a coming-of-age."

"Oh, naturally, no one would ever blame the Lady Pandora of impropriety," the Duke said hastily, "Charming lady; perfectly well-bred." Sea-flecked eyes turned back to look at Toby. "So you have a boyfriend, do you? Hmmm… just what is your relationship with this person?"

"We have feelings for each other," Toby said woodenly, gently discouraging his interrogator from asking further questions.

But his interrogator had never got where he had got by being afraid of cold looks. That, and his skin was as thick as a metal shield. Nothing pierced his unperturbed inquisitiveness enough to stop him in his tracks. "Ah, yes. But do you sleep in the same bed? Do you have sexual relations; that is the question!"

"I don't see that this is your business."

"Of course it is!"

"Toby, just answer the question," Jareth ordered softly, doing up the buttons on his waistcoat. "Or I will."

Blue eyes darted to the fae's averted profile and then flared with some kind of anger. "We fuck."

The Duke gasped and took a step back. Jareth only picked up his coat in gloved fingers and brushed the cobwebbed lace collar. "How charming," he commented, "And what a wonderful description. So romantic." He slipped the coat on and picked up a tiny pot of something.

"Your Majesty, I really protest this turn of events," the Duke, "The boy is tainted."

This time Jareth held up a hand before Toby could say a word, daring the mortal to say a word with a sharp glance from his eyes. "Your Honour, are you attempting to impugn the honour of my ward? _My_ honour?"

The Duke paled visibly and shivered. "Not at all, Your Majesty."

"Good." The hand dropped and a thin brush was picked up and dipped up. Toby watched in some curiosity as the Goblin King carefully drew the dipped brush out and over his lips. The pot was closed and the brush discarded. "Toby, pleasant as this is, I must have your decision. I need to go down in a few minutes to introduce my sister back to society."

Toby opened his mouth to say he was going home, but those words were still stinging in his ears. '_The boy is tainted_'. Tainted! Did people think he was some kind of shrinking violet? A delicate flower to be crushed beneath some fae's boot heel? Bah! He was stronger than that! Certainly he looked nothing like a flower! "I choose to stay," he said firmly.

Jareth looked taken-aback. The Duke just looked disgusted. The way he sniffed and screwed his mouth up spoke volumes for his sanctimonious disapproval.

"You will stay," the Goblin King echoed thoughtfully, staring intently at Toby's defiant face. "Is this alright with Luka? I assume he is to be the one you choose."

"Er, no."

That was even more surprising. "Your Honour, I think this is something that should remain between my ward and myself. If you will excuse us? A servant will take you downstairs." He swiftly pulled the thin silken rope that would ring a bell in the servant's room on the floor and waited. Within a minute a tiny goblin girl in a clean cap and apron knocked at the door and bowed.

"Take the Duke down to the ballroom," Jareth commanded.

The command was obeyed, leaving a mortal and a fae to stare warily at each other.

Toby broke the silence first. "Luka has business that will take him from here to the other side of the Sea. Trade, I believe. He does not have the time for me."

"He can cancel this trip, surely?" Jareth asked, frowning slightly at the thought. "It shouldn't be too hard. His elder brother won't have any object to housing both you and him for a year. If it is truly necessary, I'm sure my mother would be ecstatic to have you."

"He has been planning this trip for too long. I cannot ask him to give it up. He is very excited."

"And your problem finds no sympathy in him?"

"Oh, he sympathizes. But he can't stay. I- I don't know whom else I would trust with such a thing. I was hoping either Luke or you would be able to recommend someone."

Jareth rubbed his cheek in thought, distracted by this new problem. He had dismissed it, thinking that Luka would take care of it. Now it seemed Toby's coming-of-age would still need to be negotiated. In other words, the announcement could not be made today. Not the full announcement at any rate. "There must be someone!" he eventually asked.

"I have friends, but I- I would not be comfortable with any of them."

Jareth digested that. "What preferences do you have?"

"Men," Toby said instantly, "I have no interest in women." He ignored the amused look on his guardian's face. "Preferably someone I know, though not well enough that it will be awkward to bed them."

"I see. You've never bedded a friend, have you?" Jareth was indeed finding this amusing. Toby was so stern, so straight, so… unflinching. He looked as if he were facing a firing squad.

"I have not."

"No, I thought not." Much too straight-laced, the Goblin King thought. "There are one or two people. Do you have any objections to age?"

"Not as old as the Duke," Toby said instantly, "In fact, the Duke is exactly what I won't contend with."

Jareth laughed, throwing his head back in delight at the horrifying idea. "Don't worry; I will not saddle you with the Duke. I don't think he would agree in any case."

"Pity," Toby said ironically, "Any other suggestions?"

"You want someone you know, but not too familiar. You want someone fairly young, but knowledgeable. I assume you want someone that looks halfway to decent?"

"Looks don't really matter," Toby said awkwardly, "I hardly think a beautiful person will like being pushed into something like this."

Jareth waved the self-conscious statement and paced for a moment, lost in thought. "Are you certain Luka cannot do it?"

"He says he cannot."

"Bah! Bloody fool always creates more trouble than he's worth. I knew he would do this. I can't believe what my mother was thinking, letting him anywhere you."

Toby bit his tongue to keep from saying something nasty in return. "What did Luka ever do to you?" he snapped instead, "If you have some feud with him, keep it to yourself. I have no interest in hearing it."

Jareth didn't even blink. "And you would defend him. Ah well, I suppose your family is not known for its common sense." He took a last look at that cherished photograph and then threw up his hands in surrender. "I haven't the time for this now. Listen- I will announce that your twenty-fifth birthday approaches and that you will take part in a coming-of-age ritual. We can give them the name later, once you have chosen. Alright? Makes sense? Good! Now, let's go!"

Toby found himself being ushered feverishly from the room and following the man in the lavender suit stalking down the corridor. Jareth was certainly quick when he wanted to be. Toby's legs were longer and he still found it hard to keep up. But he did. Jareth abruptly changed course and went down another corridor, through a door and down the dark stairwell. It brought them to the wide, sweeping carpeted stairs that led to one side of the ballroom.

Jareth stopped before they had got into plain view. "You have one last chance," he said, "Do you really want to stay Underground?"

Toby thought for a moment and nodded determinedly. "I have too much here to leave behind," he admitted.

"My mother? I can send her to visit you Aboveground anytime she wanted," Jareth offered, "You would have a new life there."

"I have friends here, a family, a lover…"

"Luka will break your heart," Jarteh interrupted brutally, "That I can promise you. That fae has never had any staying power. He will break your heart and he is not worth this amount of dedication."

"Well, I think he is," Toby growled back, "So let it be. Just make the damned announcement."

Two differently coloured eyes narrowed in speculation, as if trying to see into his head. "Very well. It is your choice."


	14. Trouble

Author's Note: Just to remind you, **Blah **means dream sequence. As usual, this one is Sarah/Jareth.

* * *

**She always appears out of nowhere, humming some kind of song. He wonders whether he should just watch her. It's a chance he won't have in the waking world. But then again he cannot touch her in reality either, therefore it behoves him to make the most of it now.**

**So he does. **

**He sneaks up behind her and grips her shoulders, making the poor child jump and cry out. Funny how he always thinks of her as a child, but there it is. He likes that. It's refreshing to find someone young and unselfconscious, someone who doesn't care if the world is a nasty, evil place so long as no one interrupts her personal view of its potential. **

"**You scared me! Mean thing!"**

"**Am I really? How tragic. You will have to train me better, then." Jareth knows exactly how she will react to that kind of teasing. **

**And Sarah does it- she blushes. Brick red and embarrassed, she hides her face in his shirt and digs her nails vengefully into his arm. "Stop it, Jareth. You know I don't like that."**

"**Don't like what, Sarah?"**

**She shifts in his arms, a little unforgiving and yet resting there so easily. Again, strange. And no reason why it should be! They've done this a million times in his dreams and he knows full well that Sarah will be wary of him for a few days and then forget it all when he gives her another present. Emeralds to match her eyes? Possibly. Why should the dream feel unnatural now?**

"**Why do you always make it seem like a game with us?"**

**This is not the usual script. Jareth doesn't like this. He draws back a little, imperiously lifting her face to look into her eyes. Tears! Dear God, what has he done now?**

"**Sarah, luv, I'm sorry. I was only joking. It's not a game, I promise." He tries to pull her close, to shower her with the soft kisses she deserves, but this time she will have none of it. **

"**Stop it!" Close to shouting is never a good sign. "Is that all you think about? I don't want that from you!"**

"**Want what?" Now the Goblin King is confused. He rarely is, and it only serves to make him frustrated, because he just cannot understand what she is talking about. Sure, his good little Queen didn't like to even consider any form of 'toys' or 'games', but she puts up with the teasing. She knows him too, and Jareth will never make her do something she doesn't want. "I am not sure I follow you."**

"**It's not a game," she repeats, breaking away and going to the window, "It's not about obedience, you know. I don't want a slave or a master."**

"**I should hope not," Jareth says tartly, "You will get neither."**

"**Really?" Green eyes, not so innocent, not so bright, staring at him as that beautifully preserved memory suddenly hops up onto the windowsill. "I'd never have guessed, what with the way you act."**

"**How do I act? And get down from there, you silly woman! Do you want to fall and break your neck?"**

**Sarah just looks at him. And lets go. **

The Goblin King's eyes fluttered as he came to his senses. He didn't bolt upright; he didn't move a muscle. But he was stiff and his back hurt.

He lay there for a few minutes, luxuriating in the relief of finding the entire thing just a nightmare, wilfully overlooking the knowledge that she was dead in any case. He didn't want to think about that. She wasn't dead to him. A part of her still lived on- in his head, in her legend, in Toby.

Toby!

He sat up this time and groaned, rubbing the grit of sleep from his eyes.

He would have to do _something_ about that man or there would be hell to pay. Luka was refusing to compromise and Jareth had his suspicions. One of the little-known advantages of sleeping with whatever crossed his path was a propensity to gathering all the little rumours that the general public never heard. And rumours there were, plenty to be had about that little trip across the Sea.

"Bloody fool," the fae snapped. Moving cautiously, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested for a moment. But there was no help for it; he would have to get up.

Clothes; teeth; sword; out. In that exact order. He might look as incongruous on a training ground as everyone said but he'd be damned if he didn't spend a few pleasurable moments of his morning pretending to kill someone. Luka? Perhaps. Toby? No, no point in killing the mortal brat. Sarah?

He stopped on the stairs and grimaced. The very thought was revolting. _Not_ Sarah, then. But someone. Gildred! Ah, now there was someone he could kill. And he didn't even need an immediate reason, per say. The outlaw had tried to assassinate him, ruin his kingdom, cause harm and destruction… there was nothing that Gildred had not done that Jareth could not hate.

The sunlight lipped gently over the horizon, just as it had always done since the beginning of this reign of power. But it was cold. Neither sun nor moon existed in the Underground; there was only the light and the dark. Many believed it was the sunlight from the earth sphere that penetrated to the Underground. Many others pointed out- quite reasonably- that the earth sphere always experienced day on some part of the globe and therefore the Underground would never have night if that were true.

Jareth didn't care either way. Especially, as he morbidly reminded himself, when he could still see those green eyes as Sarah jumped. He didn't understand it.

A low harrumph sounded from the stable and unthinkingly he followed it.

The large mare was staring worriedly at the door of her stall when he came in, bits of hay still in her mane and tail swishing uneasily. She snorted at him and bobbed her head.

"What is it, Serenity?" He really was not in the mood for her. Not yet. "What do you want?"

She said nothing.

The Goblin King sighed and went to her, stripping off his gloves to scratch her between the ears. "I suppose you know about the dream? No, you're not telepathic; you would not know. But you guess, don't you? Am I that obvious?"

She bobbed her head again and then nuzzled against his shoulder.

"Traitor. Here." He conjured up a crystal and turned it into a peach. Horses were not supposed to be given peaches, but it was the one fruit that he could turn his magic to and so far Serenity had been quite accepting.

No more than ten minutes later, Elban shaded his eyes as he stared out of window. "Beran, is that what I think it is?"

The dwarf groaned and rolled over.

"Beran!"

"What do you want?"

"Jareth has taken Serenity out."

"Congratulations to the both of them," Beran grumbled, "Sleep calls."

"Exactly! I don't think he was able to answer."

Two very red eyes slitted open and glared with whatever strength of personality they could summon up at the forest sprite. Considering Elban was standing with his back to the bed, Beran's glare was not of much use. So he contented himself in just ignoring whatever it was his lover was talking about.

Not an easy task when said lover would not quit. "He still has those dreams. I know it. That look in his eyes says everything he won't."

"There is no look in the Goblin King's eyes," Beran mourned, "Elban, stop. Please! My head in trying strenuously to fall off my neck and my eyes are burning coal. Let me _sleep_."

"Fine. Sorry."

Ah. That frigid tone of voice. Beran knew that voice. It was the voice that told him Elban's slow anger was dangerously close to being aroused. It was the voice that told him a separate room would be asked for. It was the voice that told him he would not be allowed anywhere near his beloved forest sprite for the rest of the week until Elban decided he had been deprived enough. The longest record for that was two years.

Beran thumped the pillow and sat up, closing his eyes against the light that speared through his hung-over brain. "But as I am already awake, my lovely, why don't we just talk now. What look?"

Tense shoulders relaxed and this time Elban turned. He hopped up on the sill, almost gave his lover a heart attack in the process and continued on with a huge smile of delight at being listened to. "I suppose 'look' is the wrong word. But he is looking tired and strained. He's lost weight… well, whatever was left on him to lose without instantly dying of malnutrition, and he has developed a rather bad habit of losing his composure."

"I see." Beran didn't.

"Yes. And now with Jervohl to care for and this business with Toby. The Lady Pandora spoke with me yesterday. She says that Toby was in need of someone to educate him."

The dwarf frowned- as well as he was able- and blinked. "But what about that fae of his? Luka, was it?"

Elban snorted. "A fine person to take care of any kind of coming-of-age ritual! He is far too selfish. Not the sort of person I would let any child or ward of mine be friends with."

"Oh, he is _not_ that bad!"

"No, he _is_! Believe me, I know."

"You know. How do you know? Oh, my head!"

Elban wandered over to the bureau, rooted around in the second drawer and came out with a long, thin twig. He tossed it to Beran and then turned his mind to answering the question. "Chew on that. It will ease the headache. Luka was a good friend of ours, you know. Well, about fifty years ago. But he was rather an idiot. Never could think of anyone but himself."

"So does Jareth."

"Yes, but Jareth is…" Elban stopped sheepishly.

Beran just grinned at him and continued to chew, urging him to continue with a mocking hand.

"Jareth is Jareth," Elban said simply, "It is just the way he is. It is not selfishness, so much as a complete disregard for anyone else. He just hasn't found anyone worthy of his notice. Or he did, but she wouldn't notice him in her turn."

"That love story has been taken out of all proportion," Beran growled disparagingly. Whatever the twig was, it certainly was a life-saving remedy for hangovers. Beran's slightly overlarge head was no longer trying to live its own life as a separate entity. "He loved her. She loved him. There was a misunderstanding and they parted. She died. There have been a thousand like it and there will be a thousand more."

"Yes, but this is _Jareth_!"

"You have an unhealthy fascination for our King, my lovely. Dare I be jealous?"

Elban scowled in return and yanked open the closet door. Hastily pulling out clothing at random, he threw them on the bed and began to change. "Yes. Because all these thirty-eight years that we have spent together were ones that I spent waiting for Jareth of _all_ people to realize that I loved him completely and totally and against all odds. Really! Of all the stupid things to ask! We're friends, Beran. It is possible for friends to have no interest in each other."

"This _is_ Jareth," Beran echoed blandly, "The man has all the morals of a bisexual koern in mating season. Anything and everything goes. Except for incest, necrophilia and pleasure slaving."

Hands paused in the act of lacing up a pair of tan leggings. "You forget bestiality."

That had been meant as a joke, but Beran was in the mood to be brutal and honest. Also, contrary. "No, I have. That fae spends far too much of his life as an owl. Do owls not have mating instincts?"

"In which case he is not indulging in bestiality!"

"He is still himself, is he not? Therefore sex with an animal constitutes bestiality!"

"What are you trying to say about him? I will not have this kind of insult about any of my friends, Beran. You are his subject, and you are currently enjoying his good favour and his hospitality. Don't you _dare_ start prying his life apart!"

"I did nothing of the kind until you insisted on discussion _your friend's_ love life with me. I do not care! I never have cared! He could sleep with a chicken for all it matters. I _know_ he has bad dreams. I _know_ he is still in love with a dead woman. And Good God, if I have to keep _talking_ about every nuance of his bedevilled moods for the next two weeks I will go mad!"

The two were so intent of arguing and shouting that they never heard the knock at the door.

Toby eventually just gave up and made a fist.

The entire corridor must have heard the hammering after that.

"What?" Elban snarled, yanking open his shuddering door and ready to strangle whomever it was.

The mortal blinked down at him. "Jareth asks the both of you to eat breakfast with him. Apparently, he can't stand any of his guests apart from us and so he will not eat with them."

Elban took a large breath and turned back to Beran. The dwarf was getting sulkily out of bed, wrapping the sheets around his waist in deference to their guest. Not that Toby was looking; dwarves in general reminded him too much of Hoggle and that would have been like spying on a member of his family bathing. He was above that sort of thing.

"I am going down," Elban murmured, "When I return, it will be to collect my belongings. I am certain Jareth will have a room spare."

"Elban, this is entirely unnecessary," Beran growled. The glare in dark eyes glittered to smoky depths; appealing to the sprite's good sense was not working. "The rooms have already been allotted, Elban. Jareth will have no spare rooms for you."

"Then I will sleep in the cushion pit in his throne room," Elban snapped, "Anywhere without you!" And he was gone, sweeping away in his slender way to stalk down the corridor.

Toby nodded in an expressionless sort of way, holding himself back from getting involved. It would not do to interfere in someone else's relationship. And Beran looked as if he might break the mortal's kneecaps if he tried. So Toby shut the door very quietly on the seething dwarf and went back downstairs.


	15. Cracks

"Jervohl, listen to reason…"

"No!"

Gildred was annoyed. He was ruler of all the outlawed states, gangs of murderers and thieves bowed humbly before him, he owned the equal to the famed powerstone of the Goblin King and he was being dictated to by a mere female! Not that females were sidelined in the magical realm, but he could break Jervohl's back without lifting a finger! And she knew it!

He stood up abruptly and left, striding away before he betrayed his good sense and assaulted the Goblin King's younger sister in the grounds of said Goblin King's very Castle.

The sound of pattering steps sounded behind him and he ignored them. He knew whose they were- he had trained them after all- but he would not give her that satisfaction. Better he left as soon as he was able. He would pay his respects to Jareth just to keep peace until their next conflict, but that was all he owed to the Underground.

"Gildred!"

He wouldn't answer. He refused flatly to do so, eyes straight ahead and jaw clenched on anything striving to be said.

"You had no right to give that promotion to someone else," Jervohl snapped, "I earned it! No one worked harder than I did; no one was more suited. How can Madigh be of use to you? He is barely literate; the other lieutenants despise and distrust him; he is a cruel, evil, vicious person…"

"I know and that is exactly why he has the job," Gildred spat, whirling around abruptly to stop scant inches from his pursuer's face. He was furious, his grey eyes almost translucent with power and his face pale against the red of his hair. "I do not need someone to organize a bloody union. I need someone to slit throats! Could you have done that? Could you?"

Jervohl gulped and drew back. She had stepped too far. Gildred's hand had risen once again to the medallion around his neck and she knew how much he was restraining himself from using the power that was his. Out of force of habit she lowered her eyes before him.

Gildred took a deep breath to steady himself and nodded. "I thought not," he ended, softening his voice. "You never have belonged in my world. Stay here where you belong."

Green eyes never lifted from the stone pavement.

Gildred walked away.

Up in his throne room- hiding from his guests through sheer force of habit- Jareth banished the crystal and sank into reflective gloom. It really was too much for him to think about. And it meant that Jervohl would be moping around his Castle for far more years than he cared to think of.

Something about this case puzzled him, however. Why had Gildred not just attacked her, as was his wont? Jareth had seen him do worse to a lieutenant for much less. True, Jervohl would not be a smart choice to maim, but it could be done. The outlaw was just that- an outlaw. He might be the voice of order in his world of chaos, but he still existed beyond law as the Underground knew it.

Why would Jervohl have chased him, as well?

The Goblin King sighed and stood up. Turning it over in his mind would not help matters. He could only hope that they would work it out of their own. And now there was Elban and Beran to consider. The forest sprite was jumpy and moody, shifting from one emotional extreme to the other. The dwarf was stoic and reserved, looking as if he would bite anyone that attempted to speak with him.

And then there was Toby.

He was more certain of Luka's position than he cared to admit, and the fae was not going to change his mind in a hurry. There was no reason for him to do so. It wasn't so much a trading voyage that was planned, as an importation- of powerstones. It wasn't legal, but Jareth didn't feel it worth his attention to protest. Cheap and general, but still with enough power if the person didn't want to undergo an admittedly dangerous trip through the Labyrinth to get a personal powerstone.

A lucrative business, Jareth contemplated. Would the Over Sea countries really be worth importing powerstones from? He shrugged and let it go. His people had been doing it for centuries and he couldn't hope to do more than make sure they didn't blow themselves up playing with fire.

He summoned a crystal and let it drop from his hand. He was waiting less than thirty seconds before his housekeeper bobbed up before him, curtseying intently. "Yava, are the guests settled?" he asked coolly.

"Yes, Sire."

"Anything going wrong?"

"None at all, Sire."

"Good." He stalked away without another word, leaving her to sigh with relief that the interview had gone as well as it had. But there were other things to care for. The guests were numerous and varied. The merfolk needed to especially looked after, since they still had to spend large amounts of time in salt water baths so their scales wouldn't dry out and crack.

Yava was, in short, extremely busy.

It was lucky that she did not have to supply goblin girls to look after the ladies and their dressing. If there had been a Queen in residence, it would have been different. No one expected an unmarried King to need goblin servants who knew how to do elaborate coifs.

Yava was, of course, aware of her blessings. And she counted them every day. But the menu for the day's light lunch was in dire need of her approval and she bustled off to oversee the cooks. And to make sure the rooms were appropriately clean. And to supply any mundane other necessities to the guests.

The guests themselves were scattered throughout the Castle, well used to amusing themselves. A few of the ladies and gents were playing hopscotch for no reason other than that they could indulge their childish whims and fancies. A few others were enjoying the privacy and quiet of the slickly run Castle at the Centre of the Labyrinth. The rest were employed in a combination of games and quiet gossip.

Jareth flitted briefly from group to group, greeting old friends and welcoming old acquaintances. He made a note to himself to encourage relations with certain of them and politely discourage the balance.

Not that everyone was after his blood, in hate or lust or otherwise. Quite a few were perfectly indifferent to him. And he liked it. They made it easier to be ignored in their turn.

He met Luka and Garlo and their gang of younger, noisy people. Merilin, an elf from a disgustingly wealthy family, smiled smugly at him and seemed to enjoy talking at great length about how different Toby was from the general description of Sarah.

The Goblin King didn't need to look at Luka to know that there was no wince of insult passing over that pretty face. "They are different people," he excused.

The elf smirked even wider. "Is it true you keep a picture of Ms. Williams in your study, Jareth? I should love to see it, you know, if only to compare the two."

"I'll keep that mind," Jareth said. It was too early in the damned ball to have anyone thrown into the Bog of Eternal Stench. "Pardon me."

He was well aware that there was an undercurrent of mockery in those words. But Jareth was nothing if not a tactician, and he filed the incident away in his mind for future reprisals.

Elban looked up from his depressed contemplation of his potentially former lover to see his best friend stop short in the shadow of a tree and frown, looking inwards to something no one else could see. This in itself was not an unusual occurrence, but the look of distorted pain on Jareth's face was.

He waited till the fae was in hearing range and then called him aside.

"If this is about a separate room," Jareth began, lifting a warning hand to stop the flow of pleading words that had bombarded him in the earlier morning.

"Forget the room," Elban insisted, "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Jareth seemed honestly mystified.

"Yes. Are you in pain?"

"No. Though I could wish I hadn't taken a maggot into my head to throw a ball this size with people I don't care for, but…"

"But you winced in the shade of that tree," Elban protested, grabbing the fluttering white sleeve and shaking.

"It suddenly registered that Luka was wearing a purple shirt," Jareth soothed, "Calm down, Elban. Not all of us are in such a state."

"You're… not in pain?"

"Not in the least."

"It was Luka's shirt?"

"It positively blinded me."

The forest sprite glowered a warning, but since the Goblin King was directing the most innocently complaisant look down at him, there was little he could do except shrug and accept it. "All right. Oh, and I spoke with Waldo. He says he will be honoured to assist with Toby's, er, lack of educator."

"Waldo?" Jareth thought about that. A merman for a mortal… it somehow didn't seem to be Toby's style. The merman was a serious-minded person, the complete opposite to Luka and the others that his ward seemed to associate with. But it was an option. "Good."

By the time he left, Jareth was very well aware of two things- Beran was glaring at him fit to rip holes in his shirt with the powerstone that was barely in check around the dwarf's wrist, and the problems with most of the people surrounding him were a long way from solution. It was time for him to either apparate somewhere else for the next two weeks or find a quick way to get them to sort things out themselves.


	16. Oubliettes

The group of people were moving about in the entrance to the Labyrinth like a swarm of butterflies. The centaurs had converted to their natural shapes and a few of the smaller guests were carried securely on their backs. Others were mounted on a variety of other animals. All were talking.

Toby leaned against the stone wall and picked out the few other mortals in the near vicinity.

"Quite the sight, is it not?"

The cultured voice broke into his thoughts with rather a sharp snap. He jerked his head around and then let out a relieved breath. "Sir Merilin. You startled me."

The elf sighed in mock irritation and shook his head. "Just my name, dear, as you well know."

Toby said nothing and looked back out into the crowd.

"Are you looking for someone?" Merilin asked amiably, "Because Luka is over there. And Jareth is still with Serenity."

"Is he? How nice," the mortal murmured absently. He wasn't very much inclined to conversation at the moment, his reflective mood already driving his boyfriend away in a fit of pique. The lines of the Labyrinth had seemed to shimmer at him, until his attention had dwindled all through the Goblin City to the very look and meanings of that bronzed stone.

Merilin noticed, his amusement with this taciturn young man simmering merrily. "Rather peculiar, isn't it? The way it dances beneath your gaze? It almost makes you wonder if it will disappear when you try to touch it- like a mirage."

"I would not go quite that far," the mortal demurred.

"I would," Merilin returned, "I have seen many fantastic things and the Labyrinth still stands as the most interesting. Of course, one could say the same thing about your saviour."

Toby swallowed down the grimace. "My guardian, not my saviour."

"But he saved your life! Surely that counts?"

Blue eyes wouldn't turn to his intent brown gaze. The pleasantly open face was currently as stony as the Labyrinth wall itself. But the very tension in those pale features said enough.

"I do so hate to be intrusive, but can it be that you do not like your… guardian?"

"I am not on very close terms with His Majesty," Toby returned stiffly, "I wouldn't presume to call him 'friend'."

The barest hint of a laugh tinted the light words that ruffled at his shoulder. "That does not answer anything at all. You do _not_ like him, then. How strange! He would, if legend had ended better, been a part of your family."

"I am aware." Toby was trying as subtly as he could to freeze his unwanted guest away.

The unwanted guest wasn't having it- "He still would, given half the chance. With your sister, I mean. Strange how death hasn't ended it. One would assume the Goblin King to be incapable of loving so deeply."

"I'm sure he is just as capable as anyone else," Toby snapped, gritting his teeth.

"Yes." The elf leaned back against the stone and rubbed his chin in thought, eyes turned up to sky in contemplation. "Unfortunately, the damage has been done, you know. Were I a betting person, I would bet my life's worth that he will have no one but that last small piece of her that exists. But that is only _my_ opinion. Pray excuse me, Mr. Williams. I see a friend I must speak with."

Toby fumed in silence for quite a while, obvious enough that the one or two that would have liked to have spoken with him didn't approach. So he stayed aloof from the crowd and quivered with silent rage, knowing what that entire conversation was about- a veiled leer and an entwining comparison.

Merilin might well have said '_You're the only one he might consider, simply because you are her brother. What a pity you would be a poor choice in all other respects_'.

It wasn't as if Toby believed it, it was simply that he had had enough of discussing his hazy recollections of the famous Sarah Williams. It would be too much to start throwing her name about in an argument as well. He had his pride, but he had his common sense. And Jareth's very nature was unpredictable; who knew what would happen if he was forced to deal with such a matter?

The Goblin King was aware that something was not quite right. Serenity was jumpy around the people she didn't know, but seemed inclined to be docile and meek. Almost everyone had mounts. Those that did not were those that elected not to follow.

Almost.

He caught a glimpse of blue eyes, frigid with anger and rage, turned surprisingly enough not at him but at the elf laughing aloud beside Luka, one arm thrown casually around the fae's shoulders in a friendly manner. Merilin- his name meant 'nightingale', but he was more of a vulture than a songbird.

Jareth shrugged and led his mare forward. "Would you really mind?" he whispered to her, "It would be a personal favour to me, Serenity."

An intelligent grey ear flicked at the words.

"Shall I ask him, then? Will you take him? You needn't worry; my mother insists that he is very good with horses. Toby! A moment, if you please."

"What is it?" Toby asked shortly, stalking from his place by the wall in a very obvious black mood.

The mismatched eyes cut to him for a moment before coming back to the horse that the brown-gloved hands were petting. "Are you coming with us?"

"I would like to. But my mount isn't here. Lady Pandora didn't realize we would be needing them."

"Serenity has offered to take you," Jareth said.

Silence. People were being to look at them, curious as to why there were so many private conversations in private corners.

Toby blinked in shock from the mare to the fae. "What?" he ventured.

Jareth sighed and slapped the leads into his hand. "Here! Take her. I use bird form for things such as this. She would have been bored. Just to be safe, I am going to introduce you. Toby Williams, this is Serenity. Serenity, this is Toby Williams. Make friends and _try_ not to get lost."

He fluttered away into the thickest of throng, leaving an open-mouthed mortal and an equally bemused winged horse. After this, he concluded, there was Elban and Beran to consider. And he knew exactly how to handle those two. "Guests and friends," he shouted, "I think we have waited long enough. Come. Our time grows short."

Streams of white and ragged light and the owl circled around twice before leading the way into the Labyrinth.

Toby looked at Serenity. She set her teeth and laid back her ears. "Now, don't you start," he glowered. She quietened down and let him get up on her bare back. Tossing her proud head at the many that 'aah'-ed at her, she flexed her wings and gathered herself to jump up into the sky that beckoned to her.

Elban started at the owl landed on his shoulder and hooted at him.

Two hours later, the forest sprite found himself lost in an oubliette.

Jareth, had he been able to, would have smugly congratulated himself on a job well done. As it was, the rest of his guests were probably struggling through their own routes. The best part of the Labyrinth at times like these was that there was a very real danger. It was his job to ensure their safety. And there was Beran.

He landed on his shoulder as well.

A mere fifteen minutes later, Beran fell into the same oubliette as Elban.

The owl fluttered around overhead as dwarf and forest sprite stared at each other. Then, as a mutual decision was reached between the two, they looked up murderously at him.

"We will find you," Elban yelled, "And we will de-feather you for this!"

The softest hint of laughter lingered on the air, as if the Labyrinth was laughing at them in place of Jareth's inability. The two were left alone to rot, fight, or work out their differences.


	17. Spirit

Toby was beginning to panic just a little. He was lost in a gigantic labyrinth with no guide, no sense of direction and a winged horse. Some might have reminded him that all he needed to do was to ride the damned horse out of there. But he would have reminded them in his turn that the Labyrinth had very skilfully led him through various tasks until he was in a fully enclosed corridor with no recourse to the sky.

And the mare was getting restless.

"Stop fidgeting," he snapped, tangling his fingers in the dark grey mane in order to keep a hold of her. "I am sorry we're in this mess, but this is partly your fault."

Serenity tossed her head and pulled away.

"No, you don't! Come back here! A fine thing if I were to lose you in the Labyrinth. Jareth would kill me if one precious hoof were touched. Not that he would need much reason."

He sank into another irrational sense of depression, only a tiny part of his brain wondering why he was behaving this way. Toby wasn't used to such an influx of emotion. But at that moment all he could think of was his dead family, his troubles with his new life, his lonely childhood and the very thought that everyone assumed he had the best of both worlds when he was really only walking a tightrope of annoyingly dangerous strain.

He had rolled back his sleeves a while ago- when he'd fallen into the river- and his hair was still wet. Worse, it was colder in this part of the Labyrinth than the Underground had ever been. The temperature in the Underground was usually stable; every day was a cool summer's day with a warm wind and every night was a cool autumn night with a star-jewelled black sky. No rain, no snow, no winter's day or summer's night…nothing to upset the perfectly modulated weather.

Perfectly modulated! Crap! Nothing about it was perfectly modulated. Toby missed the snow, missed spring, missed getting wet in the rain and then getting whacked on the back of the head when he trekked mud into his mom's kitchen.

"And I miss my mother," he mused aloud, "Can you imagine the stupidity? A man my age actually misses a woman who has been dead since he was nine?"

Serenity nudged against his shoulder, hungry and unimpressed by his ramblings. She wanted food, not words.

"And I miss the snow. And rain. And school! Is it even possible to miss what one cannot really have known?"

"Talking to yourself again?"

Toby looked around quickly, even before it registered that he knew the voice. He barely had time to add 'though not for many years' when his eyes widened and he dropped the leading reigns in an unnerved start.

"You used to do it all the time when you were a baby," this vision of Sarah laughed, walking forward in that light way of hers, hands clasped behind her back, "We couldn't get you to shut up!"

"Sarah?"

"Actually, no." If anything, she looked regretful, as if she was very sorry about it too. "Just her spirit. But you're real," she added, looking him up and down with another grin, "Gee, you're tall! Like granddad."

"I, er…" Toby contented himself with staring. Serenity trotted a short way forward and then came back to nudge him irritably in the back. "Stop it! Stupid horse."

Sarah laughed and came forward curiously, reaching out a hand to touch the charcoal coat, green eyes sparkling with anticipation. Toby let her, held his breath as she came so close he only needed to reach out a hand and he could have her arm.

The spell, whatever it was, was bewitching. Long dark hair, pale skin, innocent green eyes… Toby had a sudden heart stopping moment of wondering what it was Jareth had seen when he'd first seen Sarah. Certainly there was no one like her in the Underground. She wasn't pretty enough to be fae or elf or even centaur. Maybe a sprite? No, she was too sturdy for that. Certainly not a dwarf or goblin or mermaid. And so unbelievably innocent!

The spell broke when the apparition got too close to Serenity and the mare bucked and danced away, snorting as if to rid herself of the not-quite-there smell. Sarah pulled her hand back with a small cry and took a step away.

Toby started and put out a hand to calm Serenity down. The mare trembled but seemed alright so long as there was a distance between herself and her fear. And then there was Sarah's spirit.

"How old are you?" Toby demanded.

"How old am I _now_?" Sarah clarified, "Um, fifteen. Pretty young, huh? What can I say, when they say the Labyrinth takes a part of you, they're not kidding. There's a ton of people here, from everywhere."

"Here?" Toby looked around, expecting to see a headless ghost come gliding through the stone walls. He didn't scare easily, but the thought was so ludicrous that it was- for the moment- quite revolting. "What do all of you do here?"

"Walk. Get lost. Walk some more. There's no days or anything, so I don't really know. We talk sometimes, and tell each other things. Oh, I learned Dutch!"

"Dutch?"

"Yeah! There's this girl here, that wished her cousin away two months after I did, and we're sort of friends now. She taught me how to speak Dutch and then I taught her Double Dutch." The apparition giggled and shrugged. "We were bored, so… but tell me about you! What've you been doing?"

What had he been doing? "I live here," he said abruptly, "In the Underground."

Sarah's face frowned, incomprehension written all over her face. "Not possible. I got you out in time. I'm one of the few who did. The only one under Jareth." An unconscious kind of smile tilted her mouth as she mentioned that particular name. "He took you back?" She latched onto the thought like a lifeline. "That rat! He cheated!"

"Sarah, Sarah, calm down," Toby soothed, "He did nothing. You may not know this, but you died."

A kind of shocked tremor ripped through the figure in front of him.

"You were very depressed and the doctor gave you sleeping pills. You overdosed on them one night and died. You were sixteen or seventeen. I can't remember now."

"But… I didn't know. I… this is weird. I'm really dead? On earth, I mean?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Sarah's frown deepened as she stared intently at him. "Toby, you talk funny. How come?"

"I told you, Sarah, I grew up here. We speak a different form of English, for the most part, more formal. Perhaps I should say, more grammatical. And English is only one language. I'm twenty-four years old, now. I will be twenty-five in a few days, though, damn my luck."

"Twenty-five? Wow. Karen and Dad must be so proud of you."

Karen and Dad… a flash of memory. An arm and shoulder that felt too heavy. The flash of memory in his mind and he saw the bodies twist once more. He heard the scream and shout and felt the car crunch as it impacted. The hard yank on his shirt snapped him out of the daze.

"Sarah, do you know the way out of here?" he asked meekly, fondling the mare's long nose, "I need to get this young lady fed before she eats _me_. Hmmm? Would you, Serenity? Or would the Labyrinth protect you still? She is Jareth's, you know. His mare."

"Is she? Looks a little like him, too, now that you mention it. I think it's the mane," Sarah laughed.

Toby grinned as well, unable to believe in the surrealism of the situation. "I see what you mean," he agreed peaceably, "But I really do need to get out of here. You see, we're all at the Castle at the Centre of the Labyrinth for a ball that Jareth is hosting and I need to return fairly soon. The Goblin King doesn't like to be inconvenienced."

"I can imagine," she replied dryly, "So how come Jareth brought you down here? When I told him to look after you, I didn't mean him to _literally_ look after you. Dad must be sick with worry."

"No, Jareth took care of that," Toby said quickly.

"Oh, then that's fine. It must have been so cool, growing up here in the Wishing Lands," Sarah chattered excitedly, "Did you know that's what they used to call the Underground- the Wishing Lands? I said once that I wished I knew what was going on and someone smacked a hand over my mouth and said wishing was bad luck here. Apparently, everyone down here has this little grey pebble called a powerstone and whenever they make an actual wish, it comes true. Do you have a powerstone?"

"No. Mortals can't use powerstones. We do not have the ability."

"Oh." If anything, the vision of the girl seemed crushed with disappointment. "So you can't do magic, huh?"

"No. I never need to, though. I live a quiet life with the Lady Pandora- Jareth's mother- and…"

"Woah! Jareth has a mother? What did the poor woman do to deserve _him_?"

"Everyone has a mother, Sarah," Toby smiled, "You can't be born from nothing. Jareth has a mother, a wonderfully kind female fae named Pandora. The Underground has no use for last names or family names. Jareth even had a father, but his father died a century ago. He had a brother named Dieter, but he died as well- on a hunting accident with his father- and a sister named Jervohl. Jervohl was meant to be dead by a raiding party against Gildred of the Sky, but it turned out to be false. She has just returned after some twenty years away and Jareth has only reintroduced her two nights ago."

Sarah was nodding gently, her eyes a little glazed with the glut of information her brain was trying to process. "Geez. I suppose he'll also have a pretty little blond wife that thinks only of dresses and her husband and half-a-dozen children?"

"No. He is unmarried and he has been known to want nothing to do with children. The Lady Pandora says he doesn't hate them- she says he has always enjoyed playing with children- but he doesn't like the rigours of being a parent."

"How odd. I guess he'll change when he has one of his own," Sarah dismissed, completely unthinking of the irony of her discussing the Goblin King's love life. "What about you? You're twenty-five. Do you have a wife and kids?"

"Actually I'm homosexual."

"WHAT?"

Serenity snorted and twitched, jerking under Toby's absent-minded petting.

"Are you mad! Dad would have killed you!"

"He isn't here, is he? For God's sake, do not tell me you were a raging homophobe."

"N-no, I-I… if- if you w-want to be- be… one of them, sure. Heck, why should I care? It's just a shock, you know? I never thought… do you have a boyfriend or something?"

"I do. A fae named Luka."

"A fae?" She seemed enchanted again. "What does he look like?"

Serenity suddenly lifted her head and squealed, plunging away from Toby back down the tunnel. Toby shouted and made to follow her, when a quiet telepathic explosion seemed to rock through the very air itself.

"What the devil is going on, here?"

Toby was bereft of words as Sarah jumped and turned around, green eyes wide in a mix of apprehension and wonder.

"Jareth!" the spirit cried, taking a step back, "How… nice to see you again."

"What are you doing?" Jareth asked, not speaking to Sarah but to Toby, "Do you plan to stay here the rest of your life?"

"I wandered in here," the mortal explained, "Sarah just appeared. Well, Sarah's spirit."

"She isn't," Jareth said shortly, still not looking at the wraith beside him, "Come." He beckoned with an imperious finger and made to go backwards. But the walls had moved once again and his way was blocked. He swore and turned to the front. The dark corridor stretched on to shadow. "That way, then."

"Don't you know the way through your own Labyrinth, Goblin King?" Sarah asked timorously, a timid smile glimmering on her lips.

Toby held his breath and looked from one to the other.

Jareth's fists were clenched by his side and his breath was caught in his chest. Forcing himself, he turned around and laid eyes on the spirit. "Take her away," he breathed, "Or I will tear this section down and curse the land."

Sarah shuddered and went to the wall, gnawing on her lip in that nervous way she had. She looked back with a glance of hate in her green eyes. "I should have known," she snapped, "The Goblin King just hates to lose." And she vanished.

"We can't waste any more time. The Labyrinth will not be happy now. Give me your hand." Jareth placed a hand on Serenity's neck and took Toby's hand; taking them all back to the entrance they had started from. "Wait here and do not move."

He vanished elsewhere, leaving Toby to the mercy of a few others that had either made their own way back or were successful in their returns.

Toby looked from Serenity to the Labyrinth to the fairly near shape of the Castle just beyond the village. "Garlo," he called.

The water sprite looked up and waved, pixie-ish face good natured and vacuous. He came over, leaving his lamed koern to settle down in the cool shade of the wall and nurse its hurt paw.

"Garlo, could you please tell His Majesty that I have taken Serenity back to the stables at the Castle?" Toby asked, "Thank you. You won't forget, will you?"

"No, no. You're taking the mare back to the Castle. Will do. I shall be your truest messenger." Garlo offered another large smile and wandered off.

Serenity snorted.

"I feel the same way," Toby sighed. "Come along, Serenity. I think we've had enough of the Labyrinth for now."


	18. Plans

"Elban?"

"What."

Beran sighed and dropped the pebble he'd been playing with for the past who-knew-how-many hours. "Can we not talk civilly?"

"You never could," Elban returned acerbically, "And you dared to insult a dear friend of mine. I do not take that lightly."

"_You_ have done so often enough."

"That is different! I'm allowed to. I grew up with him. If anyone knows Jareth, it is I and not you. You speak from ignorance and rumour; I speak from fact. And that's all there is to it. Certain things I will allow, but completely without morals? No! That was going too far!"

Beran studied the bewitching combination of spirit and anger drift across his lover's face and wondered momentarily if he would be chastised for finding it adorable. It always happened; Elban always got into a towering upset where his best friend was concerned. Beran was never sure why; Jareth never had needed anyone to protect him. He said as much, dreading the answer.

Elban sighed irritably and didn't say a word.

They sat on their opposite sides of the oubliette they shared, thinking their private thoughts. Beran fidgeted and Elban stayed perfectly still.

"He will come back for us," the forest sprite said unexpectedly, "He'll not leave us here."

Beran couldn't think of anything to say in return. He considered the Goblin King perfectly capable of leaving them there. But he wouldn't say so. There lay trouble.

So they sat. In the dark. For a long time.

"Elban…"

"Don't say it!"

"I was going to apologize," Beran sighed. He scratched his head in embarrassment. "I apologize."

The change was so startling it almost gave him whiplash. "You do? Oh, thank you, thank you!" Elban flung his arms around his stunned companion and laughed aloud in his ear. "I was praying and hoping and hoping and praying and you did it! Thank you!"

Beran lost his breath when a pair of warm, sweet lips found his. His exclamation of shock was lost to a demanding tongue. But he managed a questing 'hmmph'.

"I couldn't back down, Beran, you know that," Elban explained, pulling away and smiling delightedly, "I wanted to, so much. I am sorry I shouted."

"You- you could not back down?"

"Yes. If I had, it would have seemed as if Jareth really were those things, but he isn't and I could not let you think you had won on that. Anyway, let's just forget him."

Beran blinked and let another kiss be stolen.

"I pray you won't forget me."

The two jumped apart as if they were burnt.

Jareth favoured them with a tight smile and beckoned. "Come along, you two. Your time here is at an end. Your bedroom will be more comfortable."

"You menace," Elban began spiritedly.

"Leave it be, Elban. I am not in the mood to listen to you whine." The scarce light in the oubliette told the two not to argue with a fairly enraged Goblin King. "Hands." They gave them.

A whisk of light and dark submerged them for a moment and then they were in the Castle.

Jareth dropped their hands and turned away, dusting off his coat as if to rid it of dust and dirt. Not, in itself, a very complimentary thing for him to do to his guests, deliberately imprisoning them aside, but he did have some right on his part. The both of them had never dressed luxuriously for what they had anticipated would be a journey of the unexpected, but their clothing was now covered in dust and mud. There was even a slimy muck on the knee of Elban's trousers.

"Through there," the Goblin King instructed quietly, pointing to the door, "Out. Send Toby Williams in, please."

Elban tossed a confused look at the turned back, but the black sequined jacket barely moved. "As you wish," he said.

Beran was already holding the door open, nodding to the mortal waiting outside to enter. Elban didn't fail to notice that Toby seemed perfectly mystified and wary. That would never do. If Jareth were going to scream at someone, the least that he demanded was that they know what he was screaming at them for.

Elban tugged on a sleeve and blue eyes looked down at him. "If the world begins to fragment," the forest sprite warned, "Get to the door and leave. He won't tell you so, but I think you might need to know that."

"Elban, leave."

Elban left. Leaving two people breathing very quietly in the small room that was the Goblin King's study, two clocks ticking disharmoniously out of time with each other. Papers and ledgers and far too much tension.

"You sent for me, Your Majesty?" Toby finally prompted.

An armplainly flexed, but that was about all the change. "What do you think you were doing, standing around in the Labyrinth and conversing with illusions?"

"Well… it was an illusion. I judged it safe…"

"Nothing is safe." Gloved hands rose slowly to grasp the stone edging either side of the window. "The Labyrinth is never safe! How long have you lived here and known that?"

"I am sorry," Toby settled.

A wave of unease swept through him as leather-coated fingertips suddenly dug into the stone, almost as if paused in the instant before scraping down in a claw-swipe. "All you had to do was wish, Toby," Jareth's voice remained as light as before, "I would have been there to get you out. You could have continued your journey without a problem. But you forgot the danger."

"Your Majesty, I think you are overreacting…"

"Do not tell me what I am doing!" It was strange how Jareth never needed to shout to let the full force of his anger out. It fairly rippled through him, through the air around him, crackled off the ends of his hair and off his clothes. "You are not to go near that place ever again."

"I was hardly going to return," Toby said reasonably.

"You never will." Jareth turned finally. Not a hair out of place, nothing more than the tension in his gloved hands ever betraying that he was speaking of something apparently so important to him. He raked his eyes up and down his 'ward', his lip curling mockingly. "And what of your decision? I need an answer."

Toby broke eye contact, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. Clearly awkward. "There is no one I trust," he explained, "No… true friend."

"Really, Toby, in all your time here?" Jareth purred, edging closer, around his desk, around the photo with his dead love, "And not so much as one person catches your eye? Never tell me Luka was the only one you desired."

The mortal took a discrete step back. "No. But I tend to need more than a liking for someone's looks," he snapped, "I like the way the Lady Pandora looks, but I am hardly attracted to her."

"I should hope not. I don't want to think about what Freud would say to that. Mother Complex, possibly?"

Toby clenched his fists. There was no point lashing out. Jareth was just baiting him, deliberately punishing him or the both of them for something. And the only something he could think of was the encounter with Sarah's supposed spirit in the Labyrinth. Had it meant so much to see her again?

His eyes fell on the photo and a brief flash of recognition flashed before him. It disappeared as suddenly as it had come. But looking back up, he wondered if he was imagining the anger in those eyes. Strange, as Merilin had said, to think the cool, composed, superior Goblin King was capable of making a fool of himself over a young mortal girl.

"What about Elban?" he asked, latching onto the first name he thought of.

Jareth frowned in distaste and shook his head. "Not allowed. No married males, and no unmarried females. Everything else is fair sport. I was going to suggest Voltaire, an acquaintance of a friend of mine. He seems your type."

"Type?"

"The vocal, shallow, expressive type," Jareth returned, unmoved by the warning, "I have not spoken with him. I thought you could observe him tonight at dinner. If you agree, I hear he is worth living with for a year."

Toby sighed and digested that slowly. "Must I really go through with this?" he asked.

"Yes. Either this, or return. I wonder if I should just return you regardless?" Jareth tilted his head as if to regard him from a different angle. "However you wish," he decided, "Take a look at him and tell me tonight."

So Toby left the room, somehow convinced that he was lucky to have escaped without the world fragmenting- as Elban had warned- around him. It was simple enough, really. If the Labyrinth was chaos magic trapped in a system of order, then Jareth's magic was in a very delicate balance. When too much chaos broke out, the order in the world would fall apart. The powerstone around Jareth's slender neck was the only way to release all that trapped chaos magic.

Even then, Toby took one look at the centaur in question and shook his head with comical haste. "Not in four lifetimes," he said fervently.

Jareth looked up at him, seemingly in a better humour than the earlier interview and simply raised a questioning eyebrow.

"His shirt," Toby defended, "_No one_ should wear purple!"

The Goblin King stifled a laugh behind his hand. Which left him with two last problems. Jervohl was refusing to return to Lady's Pandora's palace, listless and moody for some obscure reason she would not speak of. Jareth's attempts to persuade her to the contrary not only made her bite his head off, but reply that as he himself had no steady companion, she would bravely sacrifice her wants to fulfil that role. The thought left Jareth in a cold fear that had nothing to do with the dreams that continued to plague him. And Toby was still without an educator.

An idea began to form, one that would rid him of both problems.


	19. Steal Away

Author's Note: Is it me or has this fiction been dragging? I think it has. Look, I really don't want to hold my story to ransom (aka- 'ten reviews per chapter or I won't post') but I was just wondering if people were actually reading it. Mab, I know you are, and What Lurks In Shadows, and Moonjava when she can. But anyone else? I just ask for a two word 'I'm here' review so I know.

Author's Note 2: Oh, and the fiction will get more interesting from here. Though not exactly unexpected.

* * *

"A word, mother. Lady Harenet- delighted." He offered a charming smile as he bowed over her hand, planting a swift kiss on the back.

The old fae woman giggled and fluttered just a little, clearly enchanted already. But then, she always had had a soft spot for her sister-in-law's eldest son. "Sire," she greeted, playing coy in her shy way.

"Oh no!" he laughed, "You helped me collect shells by the Sea when I was a child. If anyone has earned the right to call me by name, you have. And how have you been, My Lady? I am sorry I could not speak with you at last year's End of Year feast. There was a challenger to be looked after."

"You work much too hard, Jareth," Lady Harenet cooed, stroking his cheek affectionately, "It cannot be good for you."

"On the contrary," he replied, "I quite enjoy it!"

The Lady Pandora sat back and watched her son at work. He was charming, when he felt like it, and gentle with those he knew would be crushed too easily. And Lady Harenet was such a one. It spoke wonders that she had survived at all, given her late husband's vicious temper. Childless and lonely, it had seemed natural for the older female to turn to her sister-in-law's children to soothe the maternal instincts that had never had a chance to blossom. Jareth, as the eldest, had been spoiled rotten until Dieter.

Dieter…

"How proud your dear brother would have been," Lady Harenet was saying, "If he were only here today."

The barest glimpse of long-forgotten sorrow hovered in the air before vanishing. Pandora felt it herself. And she knew Jareth had too. They always would.

"He was always so full of life, so vibrant. He would have been so happy to be here today."

Jareth smiled a small, lopsided smile and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on the old lady's cheek before drawing back. "We must speak again, just the two of us," he suggested, "Before the end of this ball. If there is ever anything- the least thing- you require, ask any of my servants and you shall have it. Even if it is my head on a platter." He laughed at her shock, smirking mischievously as she giggled once more. "Pray excuse me, Lady Harenet, but I do need to have a few private moments with my mother."

"Of course! How stupid of me. I am sorry. Here I am, intruding again. Oh, I do apologize."

It took a while for both the Goblin King and his mother to soothe the poor thing's feelings and when finally they were alone, they shared a mutual look of frustrated affection.

"She seems to be getting worse," Jareth commented, "How is she, in all seriousness?"

"In all seriousness… she _is_ getting worse." Pandora shrugged. "Age weakens our resolve, dear. We all get worse."

"Not you, mother. I guarantee you will be playing politics when you are four hundred and fifty."

A goblin servant knocked timidly on the door and placed the tray on the table before scampering away, though not before the King's cool eye had settled on her for an unnervingly long stare.

Pandora noticed, and her lips thinned in impatient annoyance. It was all very well to say that the goblins liked having a master, and that they benefited from a stern leading hand, but Jareth was just downright nasty to the poor things. She said nothing, however, not wanting to side-track him.

"Mother, what do you know of Luka's planned trip across the Sea?"

"Not very much. I know he is going to make his fortune, but what else is involved I have no idea. Why?"

Gloved fingers traced the rim of one cool glass in thought. "I am thinking of making a proposition to him. I mean to offer him the use of my Castle, if he would agree to assist me with Toby's situation. And then I will bear the burden of expense for him to continue with his plans when the twelvemonth is over. How does that sound?"

"Fairly well," Pandora admitted, looking surprised. Her son was not generous at the best of times. "I should think he would take it. But here? In the Castle? I thought you liked your isolation."

"It will enable me to keep an eye on those two," Jareth said, "I do not trust him."

"Jareth, Luka is perfectly harmless…"

"He almost organized a riot in his carelessness, mother. I do not approve of his relationship with Toby." He glared the stifled giggle at his pompous words. "What are you laughing at, woman?"

"You," the Lady replied, breaking out into fully-fledged laughter, "Playing the conscientious guardian."

He let her laugh, sighing regretfully at the thought of his pride. "Yes, yes, but that is not the point."

She nodded, the snood demurely fastening her blond hair back slipped just a little in her exertions, giving her a pleasantly rumpled look. For just an instant, she looked like the free-spirited young girl she had once been.

Jareth smothered a smirk and returned to his original train of thought. "The end of the ball is in a few days and I need to announce what I intend to do with Toby. It seems he is reticent about anyone except Luka, though _I_ cannot see why. All my suggestions have been turned down. And he has none of his own. Is there no one at all?"

"There is no point in asking me, Jareth. I thought it a bad idea to begin with. I am very against the whole ordeal. I know how hard it is on young folk, and I do not see why any of us have to endure it."

Jareth rested his elbows on the table and rested his cheek in one cupped hand. "Mother, you know our society. It is either this or marry instantly. Are you telling me that you would have preferred any of your children to marry before they were ready, just so they would not have had to face those first few awkward days and nights?"

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you were a virgin when you were taken on," Pandora ordered sharply. She glared when her son had the grace to look sheepish. "I thought so. Who was it?"

"Mother…"

"I just want to know."

"I do not see the relevance right now," Jareth protested, spreading his hands in a mock-pleading gesture.

"That poor mermaid," Pandora mused, "I still do not understand why you chose her. She hardly knew what to do with you. By the end of the year, I think she had changed more than you had."

"I _had_ changed! I was more mature."

She snorted in derision.

"I was infinitely more mature. And I chose her so that I would not have to spend all my days and nights with her. She lived underwater. I lived above. And we saw each other when it was necessary. The system worked."

"Evil creature."

"Not in the least."

"You still haven't answered my question," she pointed out, "Who was it you first slept with? Or rather, shared your bed with? Don't look so wary; I will not throw a tantrum now, will I? It has been a hundred years."

Jareth mulled over that, readjusting the pearl pin at his lapel. "A whore," he said at last, "I sneaked down to the Goblin City one day and spent the afternoon in a tavern. I ended up somewhere… rather embarrassing."

Again, his mother was struggling not to laugh, her bosom heaving as she swallowed the loud guffaws that threatened to break out. Her admired, romantic, mysterious son had had his first time in a brothel? The most available bachelor in the Underground and he had resorted to a prostitute! "S-so long as you paid her," she chortled.

"Yes," Jareth snapped darkly, flushing a little, "Now if you would kindly pay attention? Thank you. Toby needs an educator. You know him better than anyone else, mother. Who would you recommend?"

Pandora thought about it, mulling it over in her mind. Toby was… reserved. There were few people that were as close to him as Luka, and no one amongst them that she could say he was liable to be attracted to. "In another situation, I would have recommended myself," she said at last, "But in the circumstances I think not."

"I agree. Anyone else?"

"No one, really. I think Luka was the first. And Toby does care about him."

"Heavens, never tell me the brat is in love?" Jareth looked nauseated at the very idea.

"I have no idea. Toby is a very honest person, but he never says more than is strictly necessary."

Jareth rose with a frustrated growl and shook out his long coat, enjoying the way the tan and black leather contrasted with his white shirt and faun breeches. Ah yes, he appreciated the simple pleasures in life, he reminded himself with a smile. And clothing was one of the most fascinating of those pleasures. "Thank you, mother. I think I should find Luka. The sooner I get this sorted, the sooner I can get rid of those two."

"They will be staying in your Castle, Jareth," Pandora reminded him, her pink lips twitching into a mocking smile. She laughed at the arrested look of dawning remembrance on his sharp face and gestured back to the seat. "Sit down, dear. You might as well argue with me about your continued lack of a bride as talk to Luka. At least you enjoy arguing with me."

Jareth sat down reluctantly. "I had thought we were never to discuss this again."

"So you will live out all your days as a sad and lonely old fae? Will you become like Mrs. Berry and collect monsters for companionship?"

"Not at all. I can't abide monsters. That walking mountain of ginger fur that…" he paused for a moment, "… that Sarah befriended is enough trouble."

"Sarah, still. How are the dreams, Jareth? Do you still get them?"

The Goblin King cursed the day he had told his mother about those. But then he _had_ been almost mad with grief at the time and it had seemed as good a time as any to throw his capacity for love into her face. She'd always accused him of being unfeeling and narcissistic until that day. "No," he snapped tersely.

"Dear, I can tell when you lie to me." She picked up the needlepoint she was working on and concentrated on an infinitesimal stitch. "Well?" She looked up. Jareth had already beaten a hasty retreat. She sighed mournfully over her son's display of nervousness. If it made Jareth run, the dreams had to have him in a very bad way.

The Goblin King was, at that moment, stalking through the hallways of his Castle in a slightly rattled mood. Knowing his mother knew him as well as she did was quite different from speaking about it. He did not like words. They were damning things- words. Just see how mortals used words to tear their own families apart and cause hurt and confusion! The prime example!

No, words were not to be taken lightly. He twitched his coat closer as he walked faster, as if to escape his own thoughts. Things he said could start a war or a riot, or bankrupt the country. Other words could topple a home or a kingdom. Words were deceiving. Words were open to perception. Words were… being whispered in the room he had just passed?

Jareth frowned and turned, stopped to level a suspicious glance at the door. The only people housed in this particular floor and side of the Castle were family. No one else was allowed in. And since he had seen his mother, the other people that had authorized access to the rooms were Lady Harenet and Jervohl. Both- being female- could not speak in that deep, husky murmur.

Jareth stalked to the door, taking care to be quiet. When he wanted to be, he could be nigh unnoticed even in the same room.

The words had hushed.

He shook his head and turned to leave and then heard that whisper of clothing and disturbed air. There was someone in the room. The Goblin King conjured up a vision crystal instantly. What he saw made his jaw tighten as he ground his teeth in outrage.

"Ssh! We don't want anyone to hear us," Waldo was saying, casting furtive looks around the place. Something didn't feel right. The sense of danger was growing and the merman was very susceptible to that tingle along his spine.

It didn't help matters when a terribly angry Goblin King preceded a very worried mortal into the room.

"Waldo, what…" Luka went ashen. "Toby."

The mortal looked at his stunned boyfriend, at his guardian, at the golden box in his boyfriend's hand. "Luke, what are you doing?" He didn't sound very happy.

Jareth's hand closed around the collar of the merman's retreating back and yanked him back in. "Refrain from a coward's escape."

Waldo gulped and attempted to begin babbling but Luka elbowed him in the side and shut him up before turning. The fae was not the most courageous person in the Underground and facing an enraged Jareth was like facing a wild animal. But with Toby's accusing blue eyes fixed on him, Luka didn't want to back down. He wouldn't. He was set on that. He busied himself with putting the golden box back into the drawer he had taken it from.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing?" Jareth asked quietly, circling the two of them.

Luka looked away from Toby to face Jareth. "I was looking," he protested.

Jareth slipped back the brocade cover spread on the unused bed and raised an eyebrow at the few pieces of jewellery and sundry expensive goods. "I see," he commented dryly, "Were these also meant to be returned before you left my Castle?"

Luka flushed. Waldo babbled once more for a while until he fell into fascinated silence with one of Jareth's dark glares. He twisted his webbed hands behind his back and turned to the mortal, pleading mutely with him to do something.

Luka did not. He refused to stoop that low.

Toby was uncomfortable. Out of nowhere, Jareth had appeared and whisked him away without even excusing him from the conversation he had been engaged in with Elban. The forest sprite had looked worried at the first sight of Jareth but Toby hadn't had a chance to do anything except find himself standing outside a door and then walk in behind Jareth. "Luke, were you _stealing_ those things?"

Luka's pretty face flared into trapped anger. "You believe me capable of that? _You_?"

"Luke, you can just say no and I'll believe you," Toby reasoned, "Just tell me."

Jareth waited; let the two of them work it out. From the look on Luka's face, he did seem to care what Toby thought of him. But Jareth was still angry about the priceless artefacts of the Goblin Castle being robbed. Well, he was more angry about being robbed, himself.

Luka was in a dilemma. "I can't say no," he blurted suddenly, "But I did it for you."

"For me?" Toby looked even more astonished. "What would I do with a box made of gold?"

"And that does not account for the jewellery," Jareth put in, holding up a long silver rope with a prettily wrought pendant on the end. "I believe Mrs. Banner is missing this." He sifted through the tiny pile a little more. "Oh, Waldo! Your mother's prized brooch?" He held up in the light and smirked coldly at the quivering merman.

Luka didn't quiver. He had his pride. "You can believe me or not, but I need the money for this trip," he said quietly, "I need the money and my brother refuses to assist me. What else am I to do?"

"Tell me," Toby snapped, "I could have spoken with the Lady Pandora. She might have helped us."

"I would not have let her," Jareth piped up again, "Risk it on a venture that is most likely to fail? No."

"It will not fail!"

"Luka, you plan to smuggle powerstones back into my Kingdom. What makes you think I do not have the power to make sure all your effort is worthless? It would be, if I were to arrest you for it."

"Arrest?" For the first time Luka betrayed a hint of fear. Oubliettes were not pleasant places to spend the next two to ten years. "You would not!"

"I would." Jareth shrugged. "I could do so now. You were, after all, stealing."

"You have no witnesses."

"I do not need any witnesses. Besides, your boyfriend has seen it."

Toby set his jaw. He would not lie, even if he were asked to. Not that Luka had asked him, but it was something he was prepared for. "You did confess to it, Luka."

"For you," Waldo said hysterically, "He said for you. Surely that means something?"

Luka looked as if he might hit his partner in crime. Jareth looked as if he wouldn't mind doing it himself. Toby just wished the merman would stop whining.

"Toby, escort Waldo to my study, please," Jareth ordered, never taking his eyes from Luka's pale, resolute face. "Luka and I must have a talk."

Toby nodded and gestured Waldo to follow him. Stopping at the door, he looked back at his boyfriend. When Luka wouldn't return the gaze he left, shutting the door and irrationally stifling the desire to go back in and see that Jareth didn't hurt the smaller fae. He spared barely a thought for the shivering prisoner beside him, but rubbed tiredly at his forehead and wondered how everything in his neatly ordered life could keep going to rack and ruin every time he ran into the Goblin King.

Luka was noticeably absent for the rest of the festivities, along with Waldo. Servants whispered of two bags of gold and silver coin, handed over on the understanding that they left the Underground for a year.

Jareth would not have hesitated to speak- or rant- of the matter at great length if asked. But since no one but Toby knew of it, he forbore to mention it. The tall mortal was pale, quieter than usual, sterner and more politely reserved than he had ever been before. Jareth mused on that as he sat at the head of the long table that night, his fingers steepled before his mouth as he narrowed his eyes at the big blond figure sitting a few seats down to his left.

The only thing Jareth had had to say to Toby was on the subject of his upcoming coming-of-age ritual: "Find someone, Toby, or I will do it for you. And you will not like the choice."


	20. Scandal

Toby sat in his room, his back straight and his head held high. It was not as if he needed to keep up the pretence in his own bedchamber, but it was force of habit. Never show your emotions, he had learned. Never let people know what you think until you have weighed the consequences. And the consequences for showing fear were very many in this situation.

The coming-of-age was not, as Elban had pointed out, all about sex. It was just being taught how to be an adult. One discussed life and one discussed the future. In the less exalted circles, the coming-of-age included induction into a trade or career.

But, as Toby had told Elban, there was little for someone like him to do. He had managed the Lady Pandora's business affairs for four years by this time, had a strong sense of decision and responsibility and used them in all the ways they were needed. What more could anyone teach him?

And someone he didn't know, into the bargain.

If there was just one thing Toby could not reconcile himself to, it was that he would not know this person. He hated that. He could talk to someone. He could work with them. He could be pleasant and polite and the very soul of companionship, but he could not- and would not- let anyone he didn't know into his personal life.

Yet here he was, sitting on a bed with his knuckles white with tension and his eyes fixed desperately on the worn carpet as if it were a lifeline. Jareth had only spoken to him once more, that early afternoon:

"As you have nothing more to say, I will choose. You will not like it, but my hands are tied. Please dress the part tonight."

That was what he had gotten out of his oh-so caring guardian.

Luka had left. They had talked; the fae had explained himself. Toby regretted having been so cold. After all, Luka was so scatterbrained. He needed looking after in spite of his relative age. And he might be dishonest, but Luka had never lied about his immorality. It had been their joke: Toby's morality and Luka's lack thereof.

All in all, though, the mortal considered it aptly rational that he should be attracted to someone so volatile. Luka had been… a breath of fresh air? Perhaps. A hint of safe danger would be a better way to describe him. A pretty, appealing, sensuous, fangless snake was Luka.

Which made Toby think about the story his mother used to tell him when he was very small, about a snake tempting Adam and Someone to eat an apple. Which made him think of his family and his mortality and the fact that maybe Jareth was right- he _should_ go Aboveground and make a new life for himself.

"Mr. Williams?"

He got up and opened the door. "Yes, Eloise?"

"Her Ladyship is ready, Mr. Williams. She wants you to walk down with her."

The goblin was just a touch perturbed by the smile that greeted those words. But the mortal only nodded, cast a dubious look around and left with her.

"You look in health, Mr. Williams," Eloise attempted.

"I do? Thank you, Eloise." Toby was distracted, but the little thing that barely reached his knee was obviously uncomfortable about something. "What's wrong? You seem upset. Have I offended you in some way?"

"Offended? Oh, no, no! I just wondered, I did, Mr. Williams. About tonight, Mr. Williams."

"Tonight?" She probably did know, he reminded himself, Jareth had made a clear announcement and the servants were bound to share their employers' opinions on such a matter. "I know you despise familiarity, Eloise, but feel free to speak your mind."

She cast a sideways glance at his boots and then lifted her chin. "A coming-of-age ritual, Mr. Williams? It doesn't seem _right_. You are not a child, I don't think, and the Duke has no such right to do this. I told Her Ladyship myself, I did, Mr. Williams."

"You did? Brilliant, Eloise! Between the two of us we can form a petition." He could have bitten out his tongue the next instance. She looked affronted at his bitterness and tossed him a hurt, reproachful look. "Forgive me. It annoys me."

"It annoys His Majesty, as well, Mr. Williams. He don't want to have to do this, so Ezreeka says."

"Ezreeka?"

"Yes, Mr. Williams. Theelf girl that tends his bedchamber, Mr. Williams. She… happened to hear him say so, Mr. Williams."

Ah yes. Toby nodded and kept his mouth discreetly shut. What the His Majesty said or did to his servants was none of his business. He knew enough not to think more or less of the fae for that. Not, of course, that he had not already known. Jareth was discreet only so far as he never bragged of his sex life. But he cared less if anyone knew who or what he bedded. And the list of his conquests was still growing; some said by the hour.

Lady Pandora was a little more forthcoming- "That wretched elf! Still, I suppose I should not complain. At least she has never threatened to use Jareth's fancies to her advantage."

"My Lady, we will be late," Toby said plainly, attempting to change the topic, "And quite frankly, I could care less about the elf that makes his bed when she has done sleeping in it. It is none of my business."

Pandora's slim fingers twitched against his arm, but she said nothing, soft shoes noiseless as she glided beside him in green and gold.

And when the time came, Toby had had enough. People stopped to ask him about the decision, wanting to know who had been selected. Those who regarded him kindly spoke from kindness, the unkind looked around maliciously for the person they were convinced would be most fitting.

Jareth seemed the only one unconcerned. He had a challenge in his Labyrinth and only appeared in the ballroom in due time to give the announcement. Jervohl had only just roused herself from her own private misery to tell Toby comfortingly that she was leaving with Pandora on the morrow in a silent protest of what her brother was doing, when her brother himself appeared at her elbow and calmly took the mortal away.

"A decision has been made," Jareth began. He didn't look at his ward but could see out of the corner of his eye that Toby was standing still, pale and resolute. "My ward has chosen his educator and I believe the person will be very aware of the honour done him."

A soft murmur of sound rippled through the assembly at the word 'him'.

"A man, then," someone whispered, "I wonder who."

"Where is Luka? He's never usually far from the Williams boy," someone muttered.

Jareth narrowed his eyes at the latter speaker. He could only hope that Luka was somewhere very far from he was standing. If so, the fae male might hope to escape his wrath. Luka would be well advised to stay out of Jareth's sight for a few years.

"As you are aware, Mr. Williams and I have been in discussion over this issue for two weeks, now," Jareth resumed, "There were many factors to consider, one of which was whether he was subject to our social laws, considering his birth race. Therefore, when this year of his education is at an end, he will- if he so wishes- undergo training to join our world as one of us."

"His citizenship?" Beran whispered, looking enquiringly at Elban. He nodded and squeezed his hand to warn him to silence.

"But that isone yearfrom now," Jareth said, unable to help a small smirk as he held out a hand to the mortal, "For now, we have only one task at hand. And from tomorrow begins a new twelve months for Mr. Williams. One, which I dare to believe, will be very… pleasant, for him."

A general amount of sniggering and Lady Pandora had one heartfelt moment of sorrow on behalf of the child she had reared. Toby was stiff and uncomfortable, looking back at those who stared unabashedly at him simply through sheer pride and self-control. She imagined how embarrassing the scene was for him and hoped that Jareth would hurry it up.

"In short, my ward will be educated on the complexities of life by myself."

The entire hall froze.

Jareth raised an eyebrow and looked around in amusement. "Do I hear objections?"

"You… but you…" someone stuttered.

"Are his guardian, yes," Jareth agreed, "Who better to trust with this task than someone with the man's well-being at heart? Besides, I am no blood relative of Mr. Williams. Neither am I the one who raised him. I believe he barely sees me in the light of the person who took him from the Aboveground and gave him to the care of the Lady Pandora."

"But… but…"

"Yes? Another objection?"

Thesprite cowered and averted her gaze. "None, Your Majesty. I- I… no objections."

"Good." A black-gloved hand waved vaguely over the audience. "Continue with your celebrations, my friends. Pray excuse me for this night. My work calls." He vanished, leaving with a stern glance at his mother and a look of cool contemplation at Toby.

Toby was still trying to get his legs not to give out from under him and didn't even notice it. He was too stunned! Jareth, of all people, had selected himself. He was supposed to stay in the Goblin Castle for the next twelve months and… do what? Be what? What could Jareth possibly teach him about being an adult? The momentary relief flickered that at least he knew his educator.

The music started up and the guests reluctantly began to disperse, throwing glances at the young man who jerked to the nearest tray and selected a crystal glass of strong wine with trembling hands. Most looked grave, a few looked excited and almost all of them were scandalized.

Not that it was unseemly. Jareth's arguments had merit; no one could deny that. It stood to reason that anyone who would go to the trouble of saving a mortal boy and providing him with all the necessities of life and protection throughout his childhood could be trusted to instruct him suitably in the ways of adults. And Jareth's reputation was not of any kind of monstrosity or brutality, if a little cold with his emotional relationships. And he was no blood relative.

Lady Pandora shut her ears to the chattering around her as she shoved imperiously through the throng towards her charge. She knew that look on his face. He hadn't looked that shocked and desperate since she had first known him. The thought evidently rattled him.

"Toby," she said softly, "Come with me, dear. You look like you need to sit."

"I am fine, My Lady."

"Toby, for once in your life stop protesting." She took his arm and drew him as discreetly as she could to the throne room. The reception hall was empty and their footsteps echoed dully over the stone, muffling as they moved over the crimson carpet and then sharpening once more as they stopped inside the door.

Toby tried to shake off whatever paralysing sense of doom haunted him and attempted a smile. It might have been more of a grimace but he couldn't have been sure.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"I am fine."

"Toby…"

"Please!" He held up a hand and looked quickly the other way. "Spare me the outraged indignation. The decision has been made."

She studied him searchingly and cursed her own son in her head for a few seconds before pulling him to the curve-backed seat and forcing him to sit. "Why did you not tell me? I would have talked him out of it before this."

"I didn't know!" Toby protested, lifting a hand to his head, "Since Luka left, there was meant to be someone else…"

"And as to that, where is that worm? Eloise heard all about it, Toby, I'm so sorry. If I had him here, I would box his ears for such an act of selfishness."

At one time, Toby might have protested such violence towards someone he cared so deeply for, but Luka had betrayed him and it was Luka's fault that he was now in the muddle that he was. And for an entire year!

"Do you want me to talk to Jareth about it?" Pandora was determined to do something to take that stricken look out of those blue eyes. It was so rare to see Toby look so uncertain that she was fiercely ready to remedy it in some manner.

"Can you?"

"I can try."

Toby's face fell. "He warned me," he sighed bitterly, "He said if I didn't choose, he would have to. But Luka was meant to do this and after that… how am I to just pick a name out of nowhere? I can not _do_ that."

"I know, dear, I know."

"He warned me! He told me that either I chose a stranger or he would. The bastard!"

Pandora wisely said nothing about the indirect insult to herself. But from what Toby was saying, her mind was rapidly going from angry curses to contemplative reflection. "You told him that you wouldn't learn under a stranger?"

"Yes. I even suggested Elban, but he refused."

Pandora nodded. "Elban is married."

"Stupid bloody Underground lore," Toby grumbled, "And I suppose there is no way I can change this now that he has announced it to the entire world?"

The female fae shook her blonde head regretfully. "I'm afraid not. The decision is final when it has been announced. The _Goblin King_ can change it, but Jareth will have to explain himself. Which, I'm afraid, will involve telling them why he gave himself in the first place. It would be an embarrassment to you to have people know that your educator refused to accept you. It hasn't happened before except in extreme cases in the past."

"I see. So I can either swallow my pride and let the Goblin King have his wicked way with me, or I can stand on my pride and become the laughing stock of the Underground." Toby ground his teeth in a futile rage at the injustice of it all. He hadn't asked Jareth for _this_! He had assumed the Goblin King would never humiliate him in this way. It was really too much! They barely liked each other. "He isn't even attracted to me, My Lady. Why would he do such a thing?"

"I hate to say it, Toby, but perhaps because he is the best choice," Pandora offered. She leaned against the arm of the seat and put her arm around his shoulders in a motherly fashion. "He has done this a few times before, you know."

"He has?"

"Well, naturally. Many find him most fascinating. I suppose some think that scowl is worth a second glance. By all accounts he is fairly good at what he does. At any rate, there have never been any complaints or regrets. And you do know him. That you have your differences, I am well aware. But he will treat you well, dear, as far as he is able. That, Ican trust him with."

Toby sighed heavily and rubbed his face, taking a few moments before pulling himself together and sitting up straighter. "I suppose I will just have to trust him as well."

"Do you feel better?"

"The shock has worn off," he allowed.

The female nodded and stood up, settling her gown decisively. "I must return to play the hostess in my son's absence. Stay here a while if you need to. I will ensure that no one bothers you tonight. Go to your room early if you need. Tomorrow is going to be hard and you will need to rest yourself."

With that parting shot she left, her skirts swaying as she walked from the room. Toby watched her go from over his hands, his elbows balanced on his knees and his hands cupping his chin. When the loneliness settled around him, he shut his eyes and set about dealing with the fear and worry inside himself.

It took a lot for the Lady Pandora to walk amongst the guests once more with a polite smile for everyone. A few asked her hesitant questions, a few even thought to share an ill-conceived joke on this latest new gossip of the Underground court. She caught Jervohl's eye in the crowd but reserved that conversation for later.

Elban alone managed to corner her in a private corner for just a moment. "How is he?" the forest sprite asked, keeping his voice to an undertone, "It seemed as much a shock to Toby as the rest of us."

"It was," Pandora said simply, "The story is complex. I will tell you later tonight."

"Where is he?"

"In the throne room. But let him be for a while. He must come to terms with it in his own way. Excuse me."

She swept away to chatter with fake brightness with a young mermaid, the latter thankfully one of the few who thoughtfully did not mention either Toby or the Goblin King in her anecdotes of the underwater world.


	21. Slow

"Will you stop pacing?" Elban asked, tugging on the mortal's shoulder to bring him to a standstill, "Really! Anyone would imagine that you were preparing to face execution!"

"I may well be," Toby growled. "Elban, I am not going through with this. Jareth can say what he likes, do what he likes- but I will not do it."

"Jareth will no doubt leave you alone for most of the year and the rest of the time you spend together will involve the two of you fighting," Jervohl commented. She picked up a glass from the tray on the sideboard and sauntered back to the table.

Elban grinned in agreement and looked at the twitching man. "She has a point. The two of you cannot bear to look at each other without fighting. Had it been anyone else, I would have suspected an attraction. Considering who it is…"

"_I_ still suspect an attraction," Beran said dryly, eating steadily through his breakfast.

Toby glared at the lot of them and refrained from rattling the dishes as he stood up. "I need to think," he excused quietly, "If I am needed, I'll be in my room."

The three remaining Underground citizens sobered and looked at each other.

"He does seem against this," Elban said uncertainly, "But Jareth does not take an unwilling."

"Perhaps he means to keep it out of the bed," Beran suggested, "A first for him and most of our kind, I know, but it could explain why he offers himself."

"There is another reason."

They silently acknowledged the other reason. They none of them needed to invoke it aloud- Sarah. The last tangible link to Sarah and was it only coincidence that Jareth had selected himself for the task? After all, there were others and the Goblin King was notoriously selfish as far as his time and energy were concerned. He would not voluntarily waste time with someone he didn't like, unless there was a damned good reason why.

Toby had already figured that out himself, even as he paused on his way up the long staircase at the sound of a child's crying. He dismissed it a moment later. The challenger had lost the night before and doubtless the Goblin King had a new prize in his throne room. He gathered himself to continue up the stairs when a voice caught his ear.

"Here. Take him away and get rid of him." Jareth's voice.

A goblin bobbed in a bow and then nervously seized the child as it was thrust down at him. "Of course, Sire. Anyt'ing you wants, Sire. What to do with it, Sire?"

"I have no idea. Roast him over a spit if you want. Just take him away!"

Toby stared in angered shock. Roast a child over a spit! A little boy whose only crime seemed to be that he was crying a little too loud? He calmed himself and reminded his feet that they needed to keep walking upward. He would not flair up at this. He had spent sixteen years of his life as the most placid of people and in two weeks Jareth had given him anger management issues.

His feet turned around and thudded heavily down the stone stairs. His tongue loosened as he licked his lips. "Pardon my intrusion, Your Majesty, but may I have the child?"

The goblin dropped the poor boy in his terror. Jareth shot an annoyed look down and picked him up, shooting a death glare at his servant. "Leave us," he ordered.

The goblin obeyed.

The Goblin King made the appropriate soothing noises and rocked the wailing infant. Muttering sing-song nonsense in a tiny ear, he nodded to Toby and jerked his head back to the throne room.

"Ssh, little one. Nothing will hurt you," he crooned, "There is nothing here to frighten you. I have a gift for you. Here, take it." He conjured up a crystal and offered it. The boy hid his face in a white neck and continued to sob.

Toby leaned at the doorframe and watched, his seething temper warily relaxing. He hadn't forgotten that roasting comment, even if the show of caring seemed genuine enough.

The Goblin King muttered something under his breath and hefted the child better into his arms. "Here," he tried again, suddenly beginning to roll the crystal over his fingers, "Watch the pretty crystal, little one. Hmmm? See how it moves. Does it not look pretty?"

The child gulped and peeped out.

"Anyone else would look entranced by such sweet innocence," a mocking female voice, "But not our stoic King, oh no!"

Both males turned to see the blue-skinned mermaid regard them both with a sparking interest and arms folded on her silver clothed breast. "I see you have assembled an entire family in one night, Jareth," she laughed.

Toby recognized her vaguely as someone Elban had introduced him to- the daughter of someone important? Something like that. He bowed civilly and got out of the doorway. She entered and the mischievous look deepened as she took the quietened child away with a soft high-pitched squealing that seemed to delight him.

"Well, since I know which plays the child, Jareth, just who is the mother?" she continued.

"Darish, your active imagination is running away with you again," Jareth replied acerbically, "Would you like the child? You can have him for the asking."

Toby's temper flared again.

Jareth looked up to catch that angered glare and lifted an eyebrow. "I am sorry, Toby. I believe you asked for it first."

"Perfect," Darish said gaily, "Now you have the wife as well! Or rather, the husband." She eyed her host with a mock critical eye. "You would do well as the wife, however."

The Goblin King smirked and bowed. "Glad to be of service. Are you done?"

"Quite. I came to bid my goodbyes. Farewell, my love. Thank you for a wonderful time." She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, tugging playfully on a wisp of his hair as she danced out of reach of his grasping hands.

"Did you take your belongings from my room?" he asked openly, "The last time you left those gilded rings behind."

"They are not gilded, they are pure gold," she retorted, "If some of us are not chosen royalty, at least we are not paupers!"

He blew her a kiss and let her go. Watching, in interest, as she curtsied politely to the mortal that stood with the child in his arms, whispering something with a last backward glance over her shoulder. Toby's face never showed an expression beyond polite amusement, but his eyes flickered oddly. Jareth was hard pressed to guess why.

"Toby," he called, stopping the large man from leaving, "I have a few words to say to you."

Toby turned. The child cooed and sucked on its fingers.

Jareth sighed and softened under the weight of that accusing stare. "There is no point in animosity or fear," he offered, "This year does not have to a burden. I can guess your concerns and I cannot promise to alleviate all of them, but I ask that you meet me halfway. We can be adults about this."

"I am an adult," Toby remarked, "And I agree. This is not an intolerable torture. We can be civil. For a year."

"Exactly," his guardian approved, stalking closer with the beginnings of a teasing smirk on his lips, "And who knows but that you might find you enjoy it?"

That was too far. "One thing, Jareth. I will be civil but you will, in turn, treat me with respect. I have a boyfriend; I do not intend to cheat on him. I know my limits and I will keep to them. I will not hesitate to leave if I feel insulted or ill-used." He left.

Jareth sighed and rubbed his eyes. In the simplest form, they hurt. His few hours of sleep had been disturbed by another of those blasted dreams and he had a promise to keep, one that- even when made to the illusionary version of his Sarah that existed in his dreams- was held sacred. "I will try to make sure he does not hate it," he said to the ceiling, "Just do not ask me to enjoy it."

His illusion of Sarah had nothing to say to him in reply.

But he kept his promise, summoning Yava with a list of orders for the night that he needed taken care of. His mother and Jervohl were both staying until dinner, and he arranged a contingent of guards to assist them to his mother's palace. As for the rest… Toby would be the only guest left by the end of the night, and Jareth could imagine that he would not like that.

So he prepared and schemed. And when he was done, he had another set of instructions drawn up and sent- via a servant- to his ward. His ward nodded curtly and waited until after the departure of the Lady Pandora and Jervohl to return to his room. A guard came for him then and led him away to the family wing.

Three-quarters of the way on the journey, Toby baulked suddenly and dug in his heels, panic ghosting over his skin for just an instant. He didn't want to go through with it. This 'educating' was going to continue for a year! How was he supposed to spend an entire year as… and he would have to…

His mind shied away from what he would have to allow Jareth to do to him; or do to Jareth, as the case would be. The mocking Goblin King had gotten him into this mess in the first place and was probably going to rub in the fact that Luka had done exactly as he had predicted and broken his heart. He would smirk and utter those sardonic comments of his; Toby just _knew_ it.

"Sir? Sir, we has to keep going. His Majesty'll be expectin' us and- and…" the poor goblin guard leading him was practically hyperventilating at the thought of what Jareth would do to him if he failed to get Toby there by the appointed hour.

Toby spared a glance of pity for the poor creature and forced himself to move. After all, it wouldn't be so different. Luka had schooled him well in those… little tricks of his. He could simply shut his eyes and pretend that Luka had returned to him. If and when Jareth discovered that- and Toby had no doubt that he would- and decided to humiliate him by forcing him to acknowledge just who he was in bed with, Toby was quite prepared to grit his teeth and get through it as best he could.

"This way," his guide said, diving down the last corridor on the right.

Toby took careful note of the direction. He would eventually need to leave those rooms and, though he hated the thought, to go back.

The guard stopped.

There were two beautifully carved doors before them and Toby stared nonplussed from one to the other. One had a scroll on it, with the word 'library' inscribed in the fae tongue. The other held a pair of crossed swords, as if warding something off. Both doors had a wealth of beautiful things weaving around the edges.

For some reason, they terrified him even more.

The goblin guard knocked politely on the door with the crossed swords, bowed to Toby and disappeared.

The door opened.

Toby kept his head up and refused to allow himself to show the least hint of his apprehension. After all, Jareth's reputation was not as a monster- a cold person, yes, but not someone who deliberately hurt any of his many lovers.

Jareth couldn't resist a smile at the picture of stiff pride that stood at the door to his suite. But he didn't laugh. That would have been too cruel of him. So he stood back and held out his gloved hand.

Toby squared his shoulders and entered. He was almost undone when the long fingers grasped his just as he brushed past the Goblin King.

"You must be tired," Jareth murmured, keeping a firm hold of the hand in his as he moved to the door of his bedchamber. "Never fear; I won't hurt you."

Toby made some indefinable sound that might have been a sigh of relief or a snort of derision. Considering the situation, Jareth thought he was entitled. He barely let him look at the bedroom itself, knowing Toby would find it more upsetting to dwell on things in his tense state. Luckily, his plan had taken this into account.

So he led him into the bathroom and then let him go.

Toby blinked. "Why are we here?" he asked suspiciously.

Jareth gestured wordlessly to the enormous porcelain tub that took over one entire wall of the tiled room.

"You want me to… what, bathe, for you?"

Jareth sighed. If anything, Toby had contrived to think him worthy of even more imagined heights of perversity. "You are going to bathe, yes. It will relax you. Take as long as you want. The water is enchanted to stay hot so the only thing you have to worry about is falling asleep and awakening with a crick in your neck."

"And you?" Toby asked. "What will you be doing?"

"I," Jareth said gently, "Am going to be in the library next door tonight- working. If you need anything, pull the bellpull. If you want me, pull once. If you want a servant, pull twice. Is there anything else that you need, since I _am_ in the vicinity?"

Toby took a small step towards the tub and raised his eyebrows as he saw the hot water with the steam curling off the surface. Handfuls of brightly coloured flower petals were for some unknown reason floating on the top and the entire thing smelt divine. In point of fact, it wasn't a bath so much as an extravagance.

"Is this some peculiar type of seduction?" the mortal asked.

He turned to offer a cold look only to let a gasp escape him as how close Jareth had moved without his awareness. The Goblin King smiled softly, and actually went up on the tips of his toes to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

"Enjoy," he whispered, "Remember this is only for you." And then he whirled away and walked sedately out the door, leaving a stunned silence behind.

Toby touched his mouth in shock, feeling the same spidery glimmer of feeling dust on his fingertips as he did so. He couldn't understand what the Goblin King was playing at. Was there an ulterior motive? But he couldn't think of one. Jareth wasn't even attracted to him. It wasn't as if the Goblin King needed to manipulate him to undress him.

And why go to the obvious trouble to appear to comfort him when he had nothing to gain by it? Either Jareth was playing the cruelest game he was capable of, or he actually was being sensitive about this.

Toby didn't believe his guardian capable of extreme cruelty, but he wasn't that sold on him just yet. He locked and bolted the door to the bathroom before proceeding to undress. The locks wouldn't keep someone like Jareth out if he were determined to enter, but if his attitude was serious then he would read the meaning in them.

He put one foot into the water and almost yelped with the shock. It really was as hot as he could bear it. It took him a moment to get in, but once he did… oh, once he did, he couldn't even imagine getting out any time soon. Whoever had drawn the bath had added a generous trickle of scented oil and the smell of sandalwood was soothing to his vaguely aching head.

He shut his eyes, letting his skin just absorb the satin feel of water flowing around. His fingers, usually so thick and coarse-looking for this land of artistry and beauty, actually felt delicate trailing in the water. He couldn't resist flicking them, shifting so that he could make waves that lapped and sucked softly.

But he snorted not two minutes later and lay still, chastising himself for being so nonsensical. He was a six foot three inch mortal in a world where magic and beauty spun and swirled from corner to corner; there was no way in heaven or hell that he could delude himself into believing that he could be any part of that.

Toby leaned his head back and tried to distract himself by planning for the next day. Jareth was sure to have something else deliberated for the night, but the bath was so effective that he didn't envision fighting much. The next day was important. Obviously he would practise in the morning just as he normally did- he had slipped from the habit as of late and his body was chiding him for it- and then… well, he had no idea of what to do then.

He sat up with a frown. He wasn't used to leisure and had always found himself something to do in Lady Pandora's palace. She had been poorly for so long that he had grown accustomed to being active on her behalf. What was he to do in Jareth's castle? The Goblin King was not likely to want anyone meddling in his work and so far as Toby could see, he didn't even _have_ any work to meddle in. He simply drifted from one day to the next.

Which left him with only one option- "I will have to ask Jareth for something to do," he decided, "Maybe act as clerk or something."

That done, he relaxed again. And eventually found himself trailing his fingers in the slick water once more. Stifling the sneaking feeling of being a fool, he smiled ruefully and let his fingers have fun.

And Jareth was right- he did relax. The night stopped looking quite so black. If these little indulgences were what the fae surrounded himself with, then Toby would take advantage of his new position.

Three hours later, he roused himself from the drugging stupor to get out of the tub before he wrinkled into a prune. His body felt so incredibly heavy out of that hot water and his hands were too rough to touch his skin the way the water did.

He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, swaying slightly as he made his way to the bed. Soft, cool cotton slid against his back, but the pillow was softer still and it lulled him, inviting him to close his eyes again and drift away on the dreams.

Sometime during the night- he was not to know it was four hours later- the bed dipped on the other side as his new lover joined him. All he knew, was that he woke up and found himself being kissed ever so gently. When he attempted to pull away in irritation, a soft hand cupped his jaw and turned his face insistently back.

That hand did him in.

It was soft as the petals and silky as the water, hot and delicate and so flexible that he felt as if it was sculpted to fit exactly into position against him. He couldn't refuse anything that hand asked of him.

"You did enjoy yourself," Jareth sighed, smiling softly as he sat up and slid bared hands over the mortal's shoulders and chest. He'd made sure to take the gloves off for this.

"Where were you?"

"Exactly where I said, in the library. Why? Did you need me?"

"I just wondered," Toby yawned, his eyelids still too heavy. He shifted restlessly and twisted, trying to find a comfortable spot.

"Is something wrong?"

"The towel's wet."

"Let's get it off you, shall we?"

Toby just nodded and fell back to sleep again, only to wake with a start when those hands slid down to far more interesting places. "What the hell?" He sat up and attempted to pull away.

Jareth stilled him by wrapped an arm around his neck and clambering into his lap, drawing him into a long kiss that distracted him from the hand working steadily between their bodies.

Toby struggled at first, but melted soon after, lifting his hands to run up Jareth's sides. He still wasn't very awake and the Goblin King easily brought him to orgasm, swallowing the hoarse groan as it fell from Toby's tongue into his mouth. He pulled away when they were done, very well satisfied with himself. The first night had gone as he had intended.

"All right, Toby. All over," he whispered, "Lie down." He pushed at the broad shoulders and got off his legs. Toby obeyed soundlessly, blue eyes bright and dazed, slightly filmed as the long lashes dropped lower. "Go back to sleep."

The dreams pulled Toby away again and he drifted off to sleep with a vague sense of that towel moving against him once more and a pair of delicate hands stroking over his skin.

Jareth grinned at the sight. It was distressingly easy to seduce the man; he simply had no idea about what was being done to him. Not that the fae was complaining! If this year were to be spent in any kind of amicable accord, Toby would have to stop believing that he would be hurt in some way.

The Goblin King stripped down to his breeches but left those on. There would be no sense in gentling the mortal at night only for him to wake up and tense instantly at the thought of what he might have done. At least if his partner was still covered in all the ways that counted, he might not commit murder.

They didn't touch as they slept. They were not, after all, there for the _emotional_ side of sex.


	22. Customs

Toby woke up the next morning with a sudden start. That in itself was peculiar for him. He was used to a gradual sense of the sky lightening, of feeling the sheets too warm under him and of the thought in his brain that he needed to start the various mundane duties he had planned for the day ahead.

A warm shape lay somewhere close by; there was the distinct sound of quiet breathing. A slight sniff and a muffled sigh accompanied the breathing as he shifted to get a better look.

The room was in darkness and no wonder! Someone- and he could only assume it was Luka- had left the curtains pulled across the window. Toby padded out of bed and twitched aside the curtain.

The first shock was that the sunlight hit him hard across the face and screamed that it was well into late morning.

The second shock was that the sunlight hit someone else in the face in the bed behind him and the growled expletive was not uttered in Luka's voice at all. Toby had heard himself called a brat before, and the only one who dared call him that was Jareth.

The third shock was when his memory returned.

"Shut the bloody drapes!"

He turned very slowly, praying that it hadn't happened as he remembered.

Jareth pulled a pillow over his face and continued to mutter into it, finally throwing the pillow across the room as he pulled himself upright and levelled a death-glare at the man who dared disturb his sleep. "I asked," the Goblin King bit out, "For the curtains to be shut."

"It's you."

"I am well aware. Close the drapes."

"But it's morning."

"Yes. Now close the drapes and let me GET SOME FUCKING SLEEP!"

Toby hurriedly drew the curtain, too winded to disobey. Besides, those dual-coloured eyes were bloodshot and underscored with the smudged bruises of someone who gets little rest. He had a vague memory of Jareth joining him very late at night.

Jareth, for his part, was now indisputably awake. He could have forced himself back to sleep but therein lay even less rest. "How do you feel?" he asked abruptly.

"I… need to dress."

"Your clothing is in the cupboard in the left corner of the room. I had it moved last evening."

"Thank you. I thought you were going back to sleep."

Toby, Jareth noticed, sounded very awkward. And no wonder. The mortal probably had very hazy memories of what had or had not happened the night before. And besides, he was meant to be 'educated' for a year by the male that had loved his sister. It was, in so many ways, almost indecent for those who thought in those ways. The question was whether Toby thought in those ways.

He absently threw off the covers and got out of bed. He twitched the curtain aside and stood for a while in the window, staring unseeing out over the Labyrinth, sensing the state of his Kingdom while he had slept. The orchards seemed a little worse for wear but he didn't sense anything extremely wrong.

Toby sneaked a look around and blinked in surprise as he saw that the fae was still half-dressed. While Jareth could certainly have dressed when they were done, his brief suspicions were laid to rest at the sight. It made him relieved, which in turn made him more disposed to be friendly.

"I am sorry I woke you," he ventured.

Jareth shifted but said nothing. He didn't even turn around at the words.

Toby raised an eyebrow but shrugged and went on with his dressing. He had made the attempted to 'meet him halfway'; if Jareth did not respond, it was not his problem. He concentrated on the tasks at hand, finally disappearing into the bathroom.

Jareth went back to bed.

"Your Majesty, I was wondering…"

Bloodshot eyes opened with a baleful stare. "Never," the Goblin King seethed, "Call me that in this room. In fact, try using my name for the rest of the year. That can be your first lesson."

Toby took a deep breath and fought the urge to scowl at the prone figure. "Yes, Your… er, Jareth."

"Good. What do you want?"

"I was wondering what I was to do today," Toby began, "But since you are sleeping, I'll undertake to occupy myself. If… that meets with your approval?"

Jareth shut his eyes. He refused to answer; he didn't want to. It was no concern of his what the mortal did when he was not with him. And damn everyone that said it was a bad habit, but he was going back to sleep whether it killed him or not! Two weeks- _two_- of being polite and concerned and extroverted against his every whim and fancy and now he needed that solitude like oxygen.

Toby waited for an answer. In vain, as it appeared. He excused himself, making no sound as he left the suite, dressed simply in shirt and breeches.

A goblin met him in the hallways and bowed deeply, almost prostrating himself at the mortal's feet.

"Sir, if you be wanting for anyt'ing, tells us and we will get it. Anyt'ing at all," the goblin vowed.

"Gibil!" came a shout.

A goblin guard in his polished armour was walking purposefully towards them, face grim as if the poor servant was committing some terrible act. "Get up," the guard snarled, kicking at the other, "Show some respect!"

Blue eyes crinkling just a little in frown, Toby took a step back. "What is going on here?" he demanded, arms folded across his chest.

The guard snapped to attention and the servant went flat on his face on the floor.

"He were being dis'pectful, Sir," the guard said carefully, "Say one word and it's the lash for him, Sir."

"Lash! What did he do?"

"He ain't to be's near you, Sir."

"Why ever not? I assume he has work here."

The guard looked at him as if Toby had suddenly grown an extra pair of arms and was waving them around singing a bawdy drinking song at the top of his lungs. "No 'spectable servant comes near the King, Sir. Or his guests."

"Is there a problem?"

Toby turned thankfully enough. "Your Majesty, I was trying to untangle things myself. It seems this poor guy is to be whipped."

The Goblin King was not attired. In fact, he was wearing what he had been wearing to bed, which amounted to very little when all was said and done. Toby noticed that both guard and servant would not look at the King above his bare feet, but kept their eyes and heads down in a show of humility. He had never learned of any of this from his tutor!

"Names," the King snapped.

"Gibil," squeaked the servant, visibly quaking.

"Mally," the guard said expressionlessly.

"And what is the crime?"

"He approached your ward, Sire, without permission."

"I am not aware that it was a crime worthy of the lash."

"In the private wing, Sire," the guard dared to offer, "It is."

Jareth seemed to look around and then heaved a bored sigh. "Go away and sort it out yourselves. I don't care."

The two vanished as fast as they could, leaving the two taller males still standing. Jareth heaved another sigh and shook his head, stretching like a cat in sunlight before turning to blink his eyes at his companion. Said companion was expressionless, tight-lipped and very stiff. Again. Just like he had been since they had met.

"For pity's sake, get the rod out of your spine," the Goblin King snapped, "If you have something to say, say it, man, and be done with it."

"It would not be seemly."

"Then forget what you believe is seemly and tell me what bothers you."

"Forgive me, Jareth, but I choose not to."

Jareth was beginning to look as angry as his ward. "It is an order," he said quietly.

Toby dipped his head in acknowledgement and spoke up, "As you wish. I find it a little hard that Gibil is to be lashed for a kind concern. He only offered his assistance whenever I was to need it. And your refusal to make a decision means he _will_ be lashed."

"And that seems unfair." Jareth thought about that and shrugged. "I have never counted myself to be fair. Come with me, I think it is time we talked about what you can expect here."

A flip of his wrist and a fully dressed Goblin King was walking past him, black cloak draping him from the back. Toby followed meekly enough, seething inside at the necessity of obeying someone else and wary about what was to come. He was not unduly surprised to be led into the tiny dining room that Jareth had always used with just his close family and friends. It was morning, they had neither of them eaten much the last evening, and while Jareth never ate much anyway, he seemed to have a morning ritual.

Breakfast was laid out on a side table, where one could take whatever one wanted and a cool jug of the milk and juice mixture was already on the table, waiting to be poured.

"Serve yourself and be seated," the fae offered, "If there is something else you would like, you can order it." He pointed to the silken rope near the side table.

"Thank you. I think this will be sufficient." Toby looked around in surprise at the variety of dishes, wondering why a Goblin King that did not do more than drink in the morning would order such an abundance of rich foods. Helping himself to a roll of bread and a particularly soft kind of cheese, he sat down and accepted Jareth's offer to pour him a glass of veraag (the flavoured milk).

"You do not eat much?" Jareth asked, eyeing the simple repast. "That is a pity."

Toby nodded vaguely and glanced up expectantly. "You were going to inform me of certain things," he prompted.

"Oh yes. As you are probably aware, the King of the Underground is called the Goblin King simply because the goblins were the first and one of the few to accept him as supreme ruler."

"My tutor did say."

"Good. Then he has clearly done the job for which I hired him. For the most part, they are a biddable people."

"Tutors?"

"No, goblins. I could tell them to jump off a cliff and I believe they would do it. Very biddable. However- and it is a very large however- they have their own customs and rules which they pass down from generation to generation without any care as to what their master feels on the subject. Call them rules of etiquette, if you prefer."

"This would be what the guard was talking about?"

"Yes, that would be it. A goblin may approach me in any part of the Castle but no goblin in my private wing is to ever be seen unless I call for them. Yava says that it has a practical use: the Goblin King cannot always be a King, and therefore the private suite is for him to act as a normal person. Personally, I never feel any difference between _my_ wing and another, so I cannot tell you. But that is the way it is."

Toby chewed slowly before swallowing and looking up. "But why the lash?"

"It is their punishment of choice."

"I understand. Have you never thought of changing such a ridiculous custom?"

"I did," Jareth said ironically, "At the start of my reign. I spent a lot of time in my library but days could go by without my seeing another living soul. I would receive letters late; I would not be summoned when dignitaries or acquaintances arrived. Yava eventually told me why- no goblin could approach until I summoned them."

A small glimmer of amusement began to show at the corners of Toby's mouth, reflected upwards into his eyes. Jareth smirked a little and shrugged, lifting his glass to sip. Strangely enough, he was quite interested to see a sense of humour make its appearance. The mortal was always so stern and stiff, or calm and polite. There never seemed anything spontaneously warm about him.

"That sounds… vaguely frustrating," Toby remarked.

"Believe you me, it is! The same for those piles of food on the table. Their excuse- 'it is not seemly for the Goblin King to live as a pauper.' I choose to ignore it now. My only order is that the food left over is to be distributed to the servants in the Castle that have not eaten due to early morning chores."

The spark of amusement began to grow. "And how many times has something like this morning's event happened?"

"Oh, not often," the fae admitted, "Once I realized the goblins were too stupid to change, I used the custom to its full advantage. But a few goblins, such as Gibil, do obstinately take my original orders as law and approach. But only with my guests or if I am in a good mood."

"How often is that?"

"I am a very good at acting my displeasure," Jareth said, his eyes dancing as he answered the question so indirectly.

Toby understood and relaxed, forcing himself not to stop the smile from breaking through. After all, the Goblin King was hardly going to eat him, or turn into a monster in a children's fairytale. And since he seemed to be making some kind of effort, Toby schooled himself to do the same.

It was the polite thing to do.


	23. Nerves

"What are we doing?" Toby asked, twisting awkwardly around to look at the Goblin King.

Jareth said nothing, only pointed him back to what he'd been instructed to look at. "What do you see?" he asked quietly.

Toby sighed, just as he had done for the last two hours. "I see a tree," he said flatly.

"Then pay attention and look again," Jareth snapped.

"Your Majesty, I see a tree in a forest," Toby groaned, "The leaves are green and the bark is brown and the sky is blue. I see moss and lichen and grass and what looks like a lizard."

Jareth frowned a little and rubbed his eyes with the fingers on his right hand. "How is it that you see so little and misunderstand so much? Are you sure you're not blind?"

"Your Majesty, I do not have magick sight! How am I supposed to see anything except what any mortal would?" Toby was getting very frustrated. He did not usually sit on the grass. He did not find it relaxing to meditate. And he sure as hell did not appreciate whatever it was his educator was trying to do. He was not used to it, and it annoyed him.

It annoyed Jareth too, because the Goblin King simply turned around and stalked away without another word. He was clearly not going to press the issue any further.

Toby stood up and brushed himself off, muttering softly to himself. The morning had started off with such promise, even if it had been a little… strange. Vague memories of the night before were still haunting him and it was disconcerting to remember just how seduced he had been by nothing more than a bath of water.

He chastised himself soundly in his head, put it down to the recent upheaval in his life and went back to the Castle, summoning Yava to ask her whether there was any task- no matter how menial or rough it was- that he could set his hands to.

The little goblin's little eyes seemed to start from her head with surprise as she craned her head up. "You- you want work, Mr. Williams?" she asked timidly.

He nodded, going down on one knee so that they were face-to-face. "Yeah, if it is not too much trouble. I would appreciate it."

"But- but it isn't _right_, Mr. Williams!"

He sighed and then looked her in the eye. "Yava, I am sure that you know how disconcerting His Majesty's expectations can be. I would appreciate having something with which to work out my frustrations."

She nodded then, relief dawning on her face. "Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Williams. I… that is- there _is_ a job… but it - it involves cleaning the armour, Sir. There are goblin servants but with all the work…" her voice trailed away and she looked plainly terrified by her own presumption.

The Goblin King's ward was not someone meant to clean armour, no matter how well made.

But the Goblin King's ward nodded and seemed quite pleased with the job. He stood up and smiled down at her. "Thank you, Yava. You needn't worry about Jareth's temper on this; I take full responsibility."

And so it was. Talk stopped in the armoury near the kitchens as Toby was ushered in, but Yava barked at them in Goblin and they hurriedly went back to work. A plain wooden chair was supplied to the mortal, along with the other necessities and a pile of breastplates. Nodding around, Toby bent his head and got to work, concentrating on the grubby metal.

Yava watched him for a few minutes and then scurried back to her own busy schedule. It was puzzling, and her goblin mind revolted against this state of things. But he had asked. There was nothing else she could have done. And he did seem somewhat restful now.

Yava needn't have worried, had her employer known, he would only have said something scathing about mortals being good for nothing _but_ servants' tasks.

Jareth was in a fine temper. He hadn't woken up in a very good mood, what with his sleep being disturbed. Not that the dreams had made their presence felt- it had been a restful night, whatever he had enjoyed- but there had been far too little of it. The morning had been a new start and he had intended to keep his promise, to make sure that some kind of understanding was established.

But Toby was so thick! What was he to do if the mortal wouldn't even try!

Disappointing. There was so little promise in him. Though those were perhaps the wrong words. The Goblin King had seen brief flashes of promise- a glimmer of amusement, a wide look of abandonment, a bolt of icy anger- but they had quickly disappeared into God-knew-where. For a short while that morning the fae had wondered if perhaps Toby had only buried his personality from some well-meaning need to fit in. But that was clearly not it, because he didn't seem to _have_ a personality.

Or at least, not one that Jareth found particularly appealing.

The Goblin King had always surrounded himself with strong personalities, if for no other reason than that those who were easily pushed around were tedious and boring. There was no fire in them, no spark of intrigue. The Lady Pandora was right in so many respects- Jareth liked to experience things through others. And with a predictable personality, there was no fun.

Elban was so close simply because he was so passionate, so affectionate. It was annoying, but endearing as well. Jareth could see what he felt. There was no subterfuge, no lying; and yet Elban still had the ability to surprise him. When the forest sprite had found out about Sarah- and how Jareth's heart twisted at the very thought of that name- he'd been unexpectedly gentle.

Jareth stopped his endless walk and looked down as he summoned up a crystal. Elban was not busy. He seemed, in fact, rather bored. Without any other preparation, he took himself to Fair Havens, taking care to apparate outside Elban's door. It wouldn't do to just appear in the room. And if anyone could distract him from the irritation in his Castle, it was Elban.

He knocked, didn't wait to be allowed to enter, but swung the door open and walked in, a teasing smirk on his face.

Elban let out a short shout, jumped and then glared at him. "_You_," he hissed, almost sounding full of loathing. Almost.

"Are you not happy to see me?"

"No. Go away."

"Tsk, tsk, Elban." Jareth put his hands on his hips and felt his smirk widen. "Surely you would not throw your king out of your house?"

"If you're threatening me…"

"Be still, Elban. I'm not threatening anyone. May I sit?"

"If you must."

"I would like to."

Laughing mismatched eyes met smouldering dark ones with a demure smile. Elban ground his teeth, sat down and jerked his hand to the vacant chair. "Do sit," he bit out, sugaring his voice, "And tell me to what I owe this honour."

Jareth sat down and conjured up a crystal and flicked his wrist, turning it into a peach. He offered one to Elban and the forest sprite softened somewhat. He hesitated a minute and Jareth smiled at him, still with the peach held out in offering.

"Well?"

"Thank you." Elban sighed, taking it and putting it down on his table. As if by some stray thought, the forest sprite straightened in his seat fast enough to injure himself, dark eyes growing round as he directed a piercing stare at his friend. "You are not supposed to be here!" long-lasting

Jareth looked around. "Why? Does Beran still suspect me of trying to seduce you?"

"It may sound funny but I assure you that it isn't. Simply because _you_ can not find it in your heart to enter any kind of enduring monogamy with anyone does not mean that the tradition is overrated. And that stupid dwarf insists that I plan to cheat on him." Elban was not in the best of moods. "And you do encourage him; you and your peaches!"

A dark brow lifted and the Goblin King almost smirked. Almost, but not quite. "Your lover is your concern," he laughed, "I don't involve myself with your private issues."

"Yes, I know. Insufferable mischief-maker. And speaking of all the ways in which you annoy people, why are you here?"

The smirk faded. Jareth sat back in his chair and swung one long leg over the other, black boot bobbing in a restless tick. "I was choking on the tension," he said blandly.

Elban drew his legs up under him and crossed them, nodding absently in encouragement. Jareth did not just pop in whenever he wanted. Beran had made it very clear to the both of them that he did not appreciate it. Fair Havens was, after all, his house. Jareth respected that for the most part. Strange, really. Considering he usually went where he wanted with no thought for anyone else. Jareth did have a few sparks of humane goodness in his soul.

The silence stretched on the longest time, punctuated only the restless rustling of a brocade waistcoat against a velvet chair-back.

Elban had no clocks- he had a hatred for the things- and Jareth found himself missing that rhythmic ticking. He craved it now and the silence was driving him mad. But he calmed himself and settled down, stilling his awkward movements as he sank slowly back into a state of self-control.

Clearly, Elban was therapeutic to his fidgety mind.

"Jareth, stop play with that medallion. It is rude."

The Goblin King laughed good-naturedly and dropped it. "As you wish. Is there any news?"

"About what? Beran is away or I might have…"

"I asked," Jareth interrupted, "About you." He waved a gloved hand in his friend's direction, a new thought occurring to him. "What do you do all day?"

"As you know very well, I do nothing," came the arch reply, "Though sometimes I write poetry."

Jareth nodded, openly bored. "Oh. Very nice. Have I read any of it?"

"No. Jareth, seriously- why are you here? This is the first morning of Toby's educating. Should you not be there with Toby?"

"Educating is highly overrated," Jareth waived, "He will find something with which to occupy himself. Or not. Either way, I do not want to see him right now."

Elban looked worried, pausing in the midst of braiding up his loose hair. "This is not… about last night, is it?" he asked delicately, "Did something happen?"

"Last night?" Jareth uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You just looked upset, as if he had done something wrong. Forgive me, but the way that you looked after Sarah defeated you."

That threw him, it really did. Toby's lack of perception was nothing at all to the stab of misery that Sarah's rejection had been. And besides, Jareth made it a habit to never use the same emotion twice, particularly when the emotion involved was so vitally all-consuming. Disappointment, yes; but not rejection.

"Jareth?"

"Are you accusing me of feeling for Toby what I felt for his sister?"

Elban was only rarely treated to that soft voice. From the way Jareth's gloved hands were clenched together, the Goblin King had taken the unexpected path of insult. Elban would have expected sadness or amusement, not fury.

"Answer me."

"No. No, I am not."

"Good. Because it might please you to know that I want nothing to do with him. He is nothing to me of any value but some nostalgic trinket that serves to remind me. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

Jareth nodded and got to his feet. "Entirely unimportant," he added, "A worthless scrap of humanity."

"Jareth, you are being a little harsh. I am sure that you have no interest in him but he is hardly worthless," Elban burst out hotly, "For mercy's sake, listen to yourself!"

"I find nothing wrong in what I have said."

"Well, I do. You are meant to make him an adult. How can you possibly be of any use to him when you despise him so?"

"Despise him?" The Goblin King chuckled and shook his head. "It sounds cruel, but I really cannot bring myself to care enough to despise or hate him. _She_ loved him. And for _Her_ sake, I will do all I can to make his life as painless as possible. He will have what I can give him, but as for liking him… the man is singularly oppressive to me."

"Then give him up," his friend urged, "Send him away. This- this is humiliation!"

"And sending him away in his need will not be?"

Elban frowned. "You did it before," he pointed out, "When you first saved him."

Jareth stopped and looked down at his hands. "I did, did I not?"

"Jareth?"

"Hmmm? Oh. I need to return. Doubtless he will have rearranged the papers in my desk according to importance by now."

"Your desk is too disorganized, Jareth. Beran and I have always told you so," Elban laughed, relieved that the conversation had swung to something a little lighter in tone. All this talk about hatred and dark themes had made him dizzy. It was the one part of Jareth that he didn't understand- his ability to just use people for what they could give him.

"Ah, no," Jareth mocked, shaking his finger at the shorter male, "Order in chaos, my love, order in chaos. There must be some perks to being the Goblin King, if only to sense what is chaff and what is seed. In order, chaos is stifled and the senses lose their effectiveness."

"And in pure chaos, the senses have supreme control and anarchy looms like a thundercloud," Elban retorted, "Speaking of which, are we never to have rain again in the Underground? I don't think you've ever unleashed a good storm since you came to power."

"Where will be the use?"

"I would have thought you would relish experiencing the power you hold over nature."

"I do what I do. Are you trying to question my motives again?"

"Because I have ever managed to rationalize you?"

They shared a smile and Elban gripped softly at his friend's arm. "Take care of your emotions, Jareth."

"Elban…"

"No, just because you go dangerously close to letting your senses rule you. There is no stabilizing force in you."

Jareth shrugged. "I have never needed it. My senses never steer me wrong." He left, leaving the last mocking gift of a scattering of glittering around the room.

Elban coughed and spat out a few sparkling pieces from his mouth, irritated but fondly filing it away as just another of Jareth's annoyances. The peach still sat on the table where he had left it and the forest sprite's delicate hands grabbed it up and tossed it from hand to hand in contemplation.

He worried about his friend. Always had. And not in any way that made him anxious or scheming on his behalf, but simply served to make him wrack his brains to figure out why the Goblin King was as he was. Chaos, order… Jareth hadn't changed simply because he controlled those magicks, now. He always had been so. Ever since they had been friends, Elban was aware of something not quite right with the Goblin King, a kind of imbalance. And he knew what it was- it was that instability.

Surprising in itself because no one could have wished for a more stable household, or a closer family. The Lady Pandora and Lord Galen had been the best sort of parents, if a little inclined to high expectations. But that was the prerogative of all parents and there could be nothing wrong in that. The family seemed quarrelsome; Elban well remembered the first time he had stayed in the house with them. He'd almost had a heart attack at the way they insulted each other. Lord Galen had been the one to burst out laughing at his awe-struck face and explain the matter gently, if a little bluntly.

It wasn't a fight, he'd been told. They spoke their minds and they mocked each other. Out of this freedom came the respect for a parent and sibling, came a respect for the individual, came a sharing of ideas both good and bad and the ability to stand up for what one believed. The fae family were advanced thinkers in that respect.

And Jareth had seemed to relish that freedom to the extent that it made him the proud, seemingly arrogant person he now was. Elban could think of no other reason. It wasn't a bad thing; it was just there. Yet all through the wandering, restless exploration of ideas and possibilities that instability had existed.

Until Sarah.

Sarah had captured his attention, even when Jareth denied making one of those rare trips Aboveground to see her perform her make-believe in the park. He'd seemed… peaceful, completely at one with his feelings, not as if he could feel them and yet stand aside from his own person and watch himself. She had seemed to steady him. His schedules- more bizarre in those days- were regulated by her waking hours and her sleeping hours. His bad habit of wandering around the Underground in unpredictable patterns became more ordered, more relaxed. _He_ became more relaxed.

And for that, Elban could only have been grateful to her. Even her rejection of everything Jareth had offered her had been a good influence. The Goblin King had picked himself up, had scoffed at any sympathy and ignored the widespread mockery and had gone about his business as if to prove that she was not constantly in his thoughts or senses. He had stopped daydreaming and actually begun to take an interest in his Kingdom, as if to make himself a better person for _Her_.

Not that she would have noticed, Elban thought bitterly, she spent the rest of her life pretending to curse his name. He had attempted to reach out to her again, to show gentleness no one had ever seen in him and to curb his impulsive nature because it obviously frightened her. And what had Jareth had to show for it? A slap in the face and a seething demand to leave her alone. Elban had winced for the Goblin King, then, beginning to understand that while Jareth probably deserved to be made to work for her regard, the price on his pride seemed a little harsh.

"Mou," he called, exiting his room and looking for the goblin that was never far from his side, "Mou!"

"Yes?" Two bright eyes popped up from nowhere, before the rest of the goblin followed it.

Elban hesitated. He had been intending to ask that Beran be sent for immediately. Thinking of Sarah always made him feel as if he didn't appreciate his lover enough. After all, Beran was a kind person and gentle to a fault. He had his imperfections and Elban knew people had whispered behind his back about ugly dwarves and the shame that a forest sprite possessed of looks and social position should have chosen a glorified koern-herder to bed with for the rest of his life. But Beran was… steadying. And he was gentle. None of which had anything to do with the fact that Elban was hopelessly, tactlessly in love with a _dwarf_, but there you had it- the indignity didn't matter so long as he had his lover.

"Is- is Beran still with his breeder?" he asked, sounding subdued.

Mou looked a little concerned, but chalked it down to the last two weeks of excitement. "Yes, Sir."

"Oh. Do not disturb him, then. Just- tell him when he is free that I would like him to join me, if he has nothing else to do."

Gods, yes! Elban would have offered his soul to the Deity that had sent such a love his way. Now if only Sarah had been such a one for Jareth.


	24. Complaisance

The evening was more refined than the rest of the day had been. Jareth had found Toby sitting in the armoury, sharing a not-quite-respectable joke with the other goblins, his hands blackened with the dust and dirt and his shirt grimy. He'd even had a black streak of grease running down his left cheek.

And so suddenly, that spark had been there again, that interest in just what made the mortal tick. Like a clock, Jareth had mused, waiting impatiently in the dining room on the ground floor for the mortal to get cleaned and come down. Regular as clockwork and Jareth had no doubt that Toby probably was as ordered and plain as a clock-face. But those wogs and wheels sometimes showed through, making him wonder…

Toby had interrupted that wondering, looking as well-mannered a guest as one could hope so. The conversation had picked up, however, with the mortal clearly in a good mood.

Jareth had questioned him about his work in the armoury, been pleasantly surprised to learn that Toby was somewhat interested in armour and swords and made a mental note to see how good he was. He readily offered him an invitation to practise in the training pen behind the Castle any time he wanted, and made another mental note to see whether it would be worth it to join him. It would be a way to lower his constant distance.

Not that Toby was distant over dinner. He had laughed quietly and told calm tales in his deep voice and made intelligent observations to Jareth's replies and seemed a pleasant enough companion even if not quite to his host's tastes.

Then Jareth introduced the ale. That seemed to put a damper on a lot of things because at first Toby refused. And then he drank just a little, and then a little more, and then the second jug came to hand and Jareth was beginning to think that his plans for the night would not be thrown awry.

Toby knew, though. He watched Jareth's expressive hands and face from across the table and picked up on the slight boredom and the strategic introduction of the alcohol. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Jareth was trying to do. The night before he had been promised that he would not be hurt. It seemed that Jareth was also determined not to keep him conscious.

Eventually he said yes to the third offer of 'are you sure' if only because his nerve was slipping. Jareth had been a gentleman the day before, completing that first time in the most painless way possible. But the fact of the matter was that he gave every indication of making sex a part of the educating. In which case, a quick handjob was not going to be offered every night for the next twelve months. No, Jareth would eventually want the actual sex and Toby was certain he did not want anything of that nature.

Even if Jareth was being nice enough to push his own boredom aside, the mortal noted, finishing off his fourth mug of ale and allowing the fifth to be poured simply because he ignored the fact that Jareth poured it without so much as a word to him. If he were drunk, however, things would go infinitely smoother. And the Goblin King could not hold it against him.

By the time the clocks in the room chimed the twelfth hour, Jareth raised an eyebrow as the mortal's head swung just a little too much to the left. Toby was, he was very pleased to see, well on his way to being drunk. If he could force just one more on him, it would be a done deal for the night. That, and Toby's weakened resolves were leaving him hopelessly open and honest. Something the Goblin King had no scruples about exploiting.

"Tell me, Toby, do you never question why you hate me so?"

Blue eyes crinkled at the corners in a formidable frown of concentration. It almost made the fae snigger, but he held his tongue when it smoothed out to a look that surprised him with its continued intelligence. "I don't hate you," Toby managed, "Just… really do not like you."

"That explains it. Was it something I did?" Jareth questioned, allowing the smallest hint of hurt to creep into his voice. After all, it really was unfair that the man held him in such disdain. He had saved him from death; it would be nice to have his efforts appreciated. Even if he couldn't give two silver pence for the man.

Toby snorted and drained the last drops in his mug. "Is more what you didn't," he slurred.

Jareth waited attentively.

Toby pushed his mug again and stretched. "Everyone always says you saved me- I should be grateful; I should thank my Gods- the Goblin King protects me. I always think one thing- he didn't care. He sent me away the same day he got me."

Ah. The Goblin King winced just a little on his ward's behalf. It did sound unpleasant when put like that. But he had been grieving. He was in shock. There were so many reasons for why he could not have looked Toby in the face that day. Besides, he was not a paternal person. Why expect what he could not provide? All the same, sending a shell-shocked nine-year-old away as if he were a parcel of unwanted clothing was not the most tactful thing he had ever done. It didn't take Toby's words to remind him of what he had already reasoned out that day.

"An oversight on my part," Jareth said peaceably, "Have another drink."

Toby put a surprisingly steady hand over the mouth of the mug as he shook his head. This talk of hatred- it made his courage come back. That, and he was drunk enough to be defiant. He was determined not to play the victim any more, particularly to a male that looked at him like he was nine-years-old all over again. "You don't have to drug me to make the nights go faster. I am not an unreasonable man."

Now that was startling. Toby had seemed to be ready to fall over snoring at any point, his eyes glazing more and more with the amount he was consuming. And Jareth had used the strongest ale on him. He tried to understand where he had read his signals wrong, but gave up.

"As you wish," Jareth sighed, setting the jug down, "Can you walk?"

"No," Toby replied promptly. "You should have considered that _before_ you got me drunk."

"You just denied you were drunk!"

"I am pleasantly sozzled," Toby declared, leaning back in his chair with his long legs stretched out beneath the scrubbed wooden table, "How are you going to get me to the room?"

"I suppose I could carry you…" The night was full of surprises, because a very interesting hate-filled glitter lit Toby's face at those casual words. That, and the entire body stiffened and straightened up. Apparently Jareth had struck a nerve in his attempt at humour.

"Don't."

"Don't?"

Nothing more was forthcoming. Instead the man composed himself, looked blank and preened his nails in bored patience.

Jareth had no choice. No scruples, either, but that didn't occur to him. In the absence of any other attractive option, he placed a hand on Toby broad left shoulder, grasped hard and let his magic carry them straight to their room. He could hear the squealing protest of his powerstone in his own mind at the abrupt action, but ignored it. No harm was done.

Toby, on the other hand, was less easy to ignore. The combination of alcohol and the sudden displacement through substantial matter made his head spin and he gasped as he collapsed on the bed. Hard fingers wrenched against his shoulder but he hardly noticed.

"Stay still," Jareth ordered, already intent on readying them.

Toby obeyed. He stayed still, his arm thrown over his eyes as he panted and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

Mismatched eyes watched dispassionately.

Seconds ticked by on the three perfectly timed clocks in the room.

Toby breathed deeply, lulled back to tired rest as the nasty taste on the back of his tongue receded. He was very aware of the blankets beneath and of the way his rib cage moved with his breathing. He couldn't hear anything of the other person in the room. He mused on that, that someone so unflinchingly present could melt so easily into the shadows.

The sudden feel of soft hands on the most unexpected part of him made his arm slip off his eyes in surprise. Jareth leaned over him, supporting his own weight on an elbow, as he combed his ungloved fingers through Toby's short blond hair.

"What're you…"

The fingers were gone as suddenly as they had come. Then they were dexterously slipping into his trousers, manipulating him to hardness and sending him into orgasm with all the refined finesse of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Toby could only stare at the ceiling in bewilderment until he shut his eyes with the first soft flow of pleasure. His bitter thought was that the ale hadn't been strong enough. After it was over, he didn't have the courage or will to open his eyes. He let Jareth guide him properly into bed; he let Jareth take his clothes off of him and then he fell headlong into sleep.

The Goblin King sat back on his heels for a moment, conscious of a job well done. There were different means of release and Toby was about to find them all out. So far, he had learned about the sensuality in things not overtly sexual- something Jareth was determined to really teach him- and then about the simple commonplace feeling of sex. It didn't have to be a big spectacle. It didn't have to be a theatrical extravaganza.

Jareth looked across to the window. It was the work of a moment to be out in the night air, the moon's light plating the feathers of his wings as he flew out over his land.

Sarah would never have learned that. Jareth would never have let her learn that. He couldn't conceive of such a woman taking anything so complaisantly. No, he would have given her fireworks and theatrical extravaganza. Every touch, every whisper, every word would have been something to make her _feel_! To awaken the passion in her in such a way that she would never have seen it as routine.

Toby on the other hand… well, Jareth thought viciously, complaisance was what the mortal was all about. He could damned well learn about it.


	25. Talk

Author's Note: Just to add in, this might be longer than I had anticipated. I have all these ideas running around my brain that I want to implement. Let's see how it goes. Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviews and reads this fiction; I appreciate all of you far more than I let on most of the time.

Author's Note: Considering the chapters gone before, this seems redundant. But just to stress, this _is_ a fiction focusing on homosexual relationships and it _is_ rated 'M' (or 'R'). There _are_ graphic scenes and adult themes in discussion. If any of this is _not_ something you are comfortable with, _please leave_!

* * *

Toby woke up to darkness once more. He sat up suddenly and then wished he hadn't. That ale had been strong! And his head was trying to roll off his shoulders as a consequence. 

He stifled a groan and dug his fingers into his eyes. The pressure eased just a little. Enough that he took the few seconds of respite to take stock. He was in bed- fine. He was unclothed, so obviously his memories of the last night were clear. And Jareth had evidently joined him some time during the night because there was a distinct presence at his right.

He moved his fingers and the pain came slashing back.

This time the groan made it to his lips.

Luckily, Jareth didn't wake. He shifted, sure, and he muttered something under his breath but apart from pressing further into his pillow, he didn't move.

Toby let out the breath he'd been holding and sat up. No matter what the time was, he needed to get a glass of water. His throat felt like a desert baked by ten years of summer heat. Water… and there was water on the table outside, if he wasn't mistaken. He swung his legs out and stood up carefully. The ground didn't rush to meet him. A pile of clothing did, however, and he cursed in his head as he almost took a tumble. In turn, the tumble sent his frantically groping hand to the door and he sighed as he made his way out to the cool of a pre-dawn day. And such it was that he spent his first waking moment of the second day of his educating.

His thirst assuaged somewhat, he poured himself another glass of water and went back to the bedroom, hoping to go back to sleep. This time he left the door open, allowing thin threads of soft light to filter into the dark bedroom. Making his way back to the bed, he sat down on his side and sipped at his water.

The headache was receding, surprisingly enough. But then again, the alcohol in the Underground was frequently mixed with certain herbs that worked to remedy any nausea and discomfort. It explained why most magical creatures woke up without any hangovers to speak of. Elementals, however, were a different matter. They succumbed so fast it was almost funny.

Toby stopped his circling thoughts and rubbed the cool glass over his hot forehead. It still hurt.

Jareth moved.

Toby looked quickly over his shoulder, schooling himself not to show his discomfort. It was bad enough to know that Jareth had touched him so expertly knowing that he was very sensible of it this time without adding more fuel to the fire. True enough, Jareth was awake and regarding him from under half-closed eyes.

He sighed something and Toby raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

"I asked," Jareth rasped, "If you slept well."

Toby opened his mouth and snapped it shut in horror as a croak came out. He cleared it and tried again, ignoring the small smirk on his companion's face. "Fine," he managed, "Just a dry throat."

"I thought you might have." The Goblin King propped himself up on a sharp elbow and blinked a few times, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. Wordlessly he held out an imperious hand.

Toby looked at the hand and back up at the faintly smiling face. "Yes?"

"Come lie down. Your head will feel better."

The mortal's eyes narrowed in suspicion but the advice seemed free of any malice or sneaky designs. So he lay back down, still avoiding that hand, facing Jareth. It occurred to him two seconds too late that he should have put some clothing on first because both hand and eyes dropped.

The Goblin King started a tuneless kind of humming as he ran his hand over Toby's shoulder, nimbly outlining the curve of the muscle. Down over his upper arm and to his elbow, over and back up with just his fingertips, slipping across to his chest. The fingertips paused.

"A very interesting body," the fae mused.

Toby snorted and brushed the hand away. He reached down for the covers and dragged them up, snuggling under them in some relief.

To his utmost annoyance, Jareth didn't seem the least bit intimidated by his obvious irritation and simply pushed the covers back down to his waist. And those slender fingers were back, brushing far too intimately against the soft hair on his chest.

In a better mood- and with someone he liked- Toby might have swallowed his misgivings and just let it happen. After all, the fae and the elves and the elementals were hairless. The goblins were… well, goblins. And the centaurs had actual soft hides, like horses. So the mortal ability to grow hair on certain parts of the body was not something someone in the Underground necessarily saw often.

And unfortunately Toby had his Dad's genes. Hair was almost an evil.

"This makes you uncomfortable," Jareth commented unexpectedly.

Toby clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Dual-coloured eyes flicked up with a knowing glance and the fingers respectfully withdrew. Jareth continued to act completely unlike himself when he drew closer and looked searchingly into Toby's eyes. It was almost as if he were looking for something.

Toby moved back a little and almost fell off the bed.

A hand reached out and grabbed his, tugging him back. "I told you I would never hurt you," Jareth reminded him, "Toby, may I ask you a personal question?"

"My head hurts," he replied. It wasn't an answer, but it was the truth. He couldn't handle more surprises _and_ a hangover at the same time.

Jareth chuckled and got up. Sliding out of bed, he looked to be dressed the same as the first night, in breeches and nothing else. He padded noiselessly to the bathroom and returned with a cloth soaked in cold water. "Put that over your eyes," he instructed, "Now, just talk."

Toby had been hoping to avoid this talk. At least, until such time as he felt better in his own skin. And preferably in his clothes. And hopefully in a room that wasn't a bedroom.

"How far are you willing to go?" came the question.

The cloth shut the light away from his eyes but that only served to confuse him. He wasn't quite sure what Jareth meant.

"We are going to be sharing a bed for twelve months," Jareth continued, "And it is tradition that we share other things. I want your opinion on the matter."

"Why?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why ask me what I think? You're in charge."

"This is for you. All of it. Strange as it sounds."

"Your Majesty…" A low growl made Toby change his tactics. "Jareth. Jareth, I appreciate this, but since I have no idea what exactly is going on, I have no opinion on the matter."

The Goblin King sat where he was, using Toby's temporary blindness to take a really good look at the mortal. Tall, muscular, broad, but not necessarily graceless. Not particularly special in any way either. Just… a blond mortal. Close cropped hair and morning stubble and slightly reddened eyes from drinking too much. There was nothing loud or ostentatious about him, nothing unique. He wore average clothes, said average things and had a serene control on most aspects of his life.

Jareth on the other hand… "I think this conversation has been a long time coming, then. What do you imagine will happen for twelve months?"

"Whatever you will," Toby murmured blandly.

"Which answers nothing," Jareth said flatly, "Your reputation, small as it is, is as an honest man. Be honest with me."

"That would be hard. I don't want to offend you."

"If I promise that you will not?"

Toby took the cloth off one eye and cocked his eyebrow meaningfully. "Then you would not be reacting honestly. I cannot abide liars."

Jareth stifled a grin. "You will not tell me?" The blond head shook. "Fine. I can guess. You believe that I will leave you to your own devices, occasionally using you when I feel the need for amusement, and you anticipate that I have as little desire to make this work as you do."

Toby took the cloth off the other eye as well, though he didn't sit up. His head did feel better and the conversation- fraught with danger as it was- was still interesting. His guardian was looking more rested than he had been for a very long time, a kind of self-satisfied glimmer curling the corners of his mouth.

"You are right about one thing- I do have little desire to lavish time and attention on this. But not because of you. I do not know _where_ you got this fear of me from, but it must stop."

"Fear!"

"Yes. For some reason that I cannot fathom, you are scared. This time you don't actually cringe when I speak with you, but very little has changed from your first arrival to now. I have tried to make you see sense, but since you have no perception of subtlety, I am telling you so openly- there is nothing to fear."

This time Toby did sit up. And what was more he was angry. He tried to remember that anger was irrational and non-conducive. He reminded himself of the way his tutor would drum it into him that anger was uncivilized and uncalled for. But with Jareth sitting there with that smug self-satisfaction on his face, a condescending gleam in his eyes, Toby was ready to strangle him.

"I don't fear you," he snapped icily.

"I think you do."

"What are your reasons?"

"You needed to be drunk before allowing yourself to let me near. Why, if you were perfectly indifferent?"

"That was not fear! That was…"

"Something else entirely? Guilt? Attraction, maybe?"

"Good God, no!"

Jareth's eyes narrowed. So far, so good. Toby wasn't even aware that he was being manipulated. That was good. It would be easier to keep him in check if he were easily provoked. "And yet you succumbed with little or no persuasion," he pointed out.

Toby clenched his fists in the covers. He would not give way. He would not! "I was drunk."

"And why were you drunk?"

"Because I expected it and I disliked the idea so much that I needed to drink to allow it," Toby snarled.

Jareth restrained himself to not show his delight. Gods, but it was energizing to finally feel the emotion pouring off Toby's tense frame, if not for anything else but that he seemed more human like this. The man, it seemed, was capable of strong feelings- interesting. "But what about the night before?" he asked, "Were you drunk the night before?"

Toby opened his mouth to say something, but it snapped shut of its own accord. He couldn't lie very easily and the confident look on Jareth's sharp-featured face told him lying would be no use. The truth was the truth and they both knew what the truth was.

"No, you drank because you were scared-for some reason- of letting me close to you." Jareth shifted a little closer. He locked gazed intently with Toby, deliberately moving too close, close enough that skin woke up in apprehension and nerves began to tingle. "Let me repeat- whatever you fear will not happen. What _do_ you fear?"

"Nothing. You do not scare me."

The hint of humour- "Then I should. How is your head?"

"Shouting has not helped it."

"Hmmm."

Long fingered hands reached out and gentle fingertips brushed across the hot forehead. Hot, humid palms came to rest on Toby's face and Jareth was still just looking at him.

"What are you doing?" Toby sighed, more tired by this than he cared to admit.

"Relax," Jareth said instead, "All I want you to do for the next twelve months is trust me."

"A hard task," Toby gritted.

Jareth chuckled, surprisingly enough, as he encouraged the mortal to lie down again, straddling him easily with a knee on either side of his torso. "Believe me, you need this," he said seriously, "How you managed to do this to yourself, I have yet to understand. But you need this."

Faces were drawing closer, so close Toby could swear blind that he could see the brown flecks in Jareth's damaged left eye. And yes, something close to anticipation and apprehension were creeping up his spine and making him shiver just a little. This time, there could be no way to excuse himself. Did he really want Jareth to keep doing this to him, the fae that would have given up the world for his half-sister? Moreover, did it make any difference whether he wanted it or not? Jareth would simply get his own way somehow, would he not?

Toby pushed warningly on a slender shoulder for just a second. "This is not…"

"I know you love Luka. I will not push you to do what you don't want to. Just relax."

And that was it. What more could he protest about? His own obvious lack of control? About Jareth's? Strange, that the Goblin King could manufacture an attraction that had never existed before. But then, these _were_ the Wishing Lands, it _was_ the Underground- things that frequently were, just were not.


	26. Trust

"Good afternoon."

Toby opened one eye and grunted questioningly.

The Goblin King chuckled and shook his head. "Get up. You've slept long enough."

"What time is it?" Toby asked, sitting up and trying to smooth his hair down. A quick feel of his jaw told him that he desperately needed to shave.

"Twelve o'clock," Jareth supplied, shifting slightly to push the tray towards him. "Go brush your teeth. I had the goblins bring us a meal."

Toby remembered that, yes, his bladder was protesting very vehemently at the abuse it was suffering and his mouth tasted terrible and he seriously needed to wash the sleep from his eyes. He never liked hangovers; they tended to be more trouble than they were worth. So he fled, stopping only to pick up a pair of breeches.

Fifteen minutes later, he reappeared to find his guardian sitting cross-legged on the bed, nibbling at a piece of grain bread and deep in some manner of thought.

"Thank you for the food," Toby began.

But Jareth held up a hand and waved him to silence. He seemed to be concentrating on something. Toby frowned slightly; he knew that look. It was one the Goblin King wore whenever he drifted off to whatever it was that occupied his mind for days on end. No one knew why he did it, but he had the habit of unexpectedly ignoring everyone else while he was at it.

So the mortal shrugged philosophically, didn't take it to heart and sat down. He picked up a cold strip of meat and a slice of bread and began to eat.

It was a few seconds only until Jareth looked up with a smile. "What were you saying?" he asked.

"Thank you for the food."

"I should hope so. I was hungry myself." Jareth got off the bed and sauntered away, calling cheerfully over his shoulder to Toby to wait where he was. A rapid-fire conversation in goblin was held in the sitting room just outside and then he returned, still looking relaxed.

Toby didn't trust that look. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately.

A dark brow rose just a little, betraying the truth more eloquently than words. "I just called a Council meeting. There is no reason to worry; just a few political pitfalls."

"I see. Sorry, I should not question you."

"By all means," Jareth snorted, "Ask anything you like. I may choose not to answer, but the freedom is yours."

Toby swallowed. "Then may I ask why you are calling a meeting?"

"I thought you would be happy to meet my mother again," his irrepressible guardian laughed.

Wrapped up in silk and brown cotton, the Goblin King didn't in the least show any sign of having been pressed up against a very sweaty mortal not three hours ago. His hair, while certainly as wild and free-floating as it had always been, showed no trace of the spikes that had formed from thick fingers threading hard through it. And certainly his mouth was no longer quite so… reddened. The most telling sign was that the gloves had been put on.

Toby had to admit that being sensible and fully conscious had been the best way to enjoy whatever it was Jareth had done with his mouth and hands. It had been… pleasant. Alright, it had been technically as perfect as it could get. But he wouldn't say so, unless asked. The Goblin King seemed far too happy with himself without such a compliment.

"I shall contrive to stay out of your way, Jareth," he commented, picking up another strip of meat and adding vegetation to it, the pulpy leaf boiled to make it edible. Wrapping them in another slice of grain bread, he chewed contentedly for a while.

Jareth kept his silence as well, until he paused in the midst of nibbling as if to add something wholly insubstantial to the conversation- "Actually you are to join me."

"Really?"

"Yes. There will be leaders of all the tribes of the Underground and quite frankly my mother claims that you are diplomatically trained and an able secretary. If I cannot trust my own ward to sit in on the meetings, whom else? You will take note of any points or agreements from the meeting and bring the notes to me when it is done. I'll authenticate them and ascribe can file them in my study."

"That sounds interesting, but I am hardly well versed in…"

"Can you write?"

"Yeah, but I should warn…"

"Can you understand most of the major languages of the Underground?"

"Yes."

"Good. I am assured you have a tolerable amount of intelligence. This should be a good lesson for you as well."

"On Underground politics?" Toby questioned dryly.

Jareth grinned slightly but shook his head in disagreement. "On the nature of the beast," he corrected, "Never are people more obvious than when they are focused on their passion. Passionate people can never hide their passions for very long. And all of these people are interested in themselves above all others."

"Perfectly understandable," Toby commented, "The land is not as large as it used to be."

The Goblin King nodded and shamelessly licked his fingers. "I agree. We lost a lot of land space when we gave the quarry to the Outlaws."

"I had thought the deal was only to be the quarry itself and nothing else?"

"Ah, yes. But the quarry was shut down, remember, and those who lived near to it moved, fearing attack from Gildred's armies. Only scouting troupes and outposts exist in that area now."

That was a new way of looking at it. Which, in retrospect, should have been perfectly obvious. Gildred's armies were not known for tolerating boundaries so naturally the citizens of the Underground would not chance a quick incursion that put their lives and goods at risk. And with the quarry gone, the avenue for employment had certainly dwindled.

Toby brushed his hands and began to change, collecting his clothing so he could take a quick bath first. Jareth was already dressed and seemed to be concentrating once more on whatever was on his mind. But this time, he didn't seem to be looking inward to something only he could see, but to be thinking. Whatever it was, it seemed a grave matter.

"When is the meeting?" Toby asked quietly, quite prepared to be ignored again.

"Hmmm? Oh, in two days. Which reminds me, there are a few more things I should tell you. First, all the Council members will be there," Jareth began, "So I would appreciate it if you would act as pacifier. The Gods know why the centaurs never have gotten along with the fire sprites but they haven't. My mother will be here tomorrow as a figurehead for the Fae and Jervohl will come with her. The elves will be no trouble, neither will the rest of them."

"Buttress," Toby reminded him delicately.

"What?"

"The Elderman for the merpeople- Buttress," Toby repeated, "I have heard he has, ah, a grievance against you. There might be trouble with him."

"Really? I wonder why."

The mortal coughed in an embarrassed sort of way and replied, "You refused him permission to forbid the use of the waterways to any that did not first seek the merpeople's permission."

"Oh. I had no idea he took it so hard." Jareth rubbed his wrist for second in thought and then shrugged. "The fool should learn not to take it personally."

Toby held his tongue. He agreed with the decision, as least as far as an all-inclusive clause was concerned. Certain habitats, he could understand, but every single lake and pond and stream and river? No. So he waited.

"Come with me. Concerning what else you will be learning, there are only a few more things I can teach you." The fae led him out of the room and next door to the library. "In here are certain texts. My mother says you are extremely good at copying decaying books, so I would appreciate your assistance. Ten scribes are already at work restoring most of them, but there are a few too sensitive for their eyes. Get those done and then…" he led them both back out, "I require you to do some dreary desk work for me. I haven't the time or the inclination."

"So you pass it to me?" Toby ventured, looking thoroughly unimpressed with such a course of action.

Jareth looked quite relieved, himself. "Naturally. Any way I can get rid of it; just records that need to be checked and letters that need to be written on my behalf. I will sign the letters myself, but I hate the spadework of writing them."

"How will I know what to write?"

"The ones I give you will require a 'yes' or 'no' answer and I will have written my answer on the letter itself."

"What about reasons for refusing or agreeing?"

"The Goblin King does not need to give reasons, Toby. Whatever I decide is my decision. If they want to argue the case, they can bloody well come here. I am not here to correspond with every half-baked political or social revolutionary."

Toby wisely did not disagree. Personally, he felt it only polite to tell someone why his or her request was being refused. True, the Goblin King was generally the King only to the Goblins, but as the ruler of the Underground as chosen by the power of the Labyrinth, he had a duty to the entire country. And duty, as Toby saw it, meant being interested in the lives and needs of the people. After all, Jareth could have refused the kingship had he felt this way about it.

"Your silence is very telling," Jareth murmured unexpectedly, placing a calm hand on his shoulder, "What have I done now?"

"Nothing."

"Toby?"

"It is not my place to tell you how to be a King, Jareth."

"By which you mean that you disapprove of something I have said and want to be sure that I cannot blame you for interfering by forcing me to ask you because of my natural curiosity. Very well, then- tell me. What have I done wrong?"

"There is nothing you have done wrong," Toby protested, stopping to punctuate his opinion with gesture. "I swear it."

Dual-coloured eyes narrowed at him and Jareth cocked his head to the left, hands on his slender hips as he bit at his lower lip. It was a look of such intense disbelief and intent concentration that the mortal actually smiled. It looked like some strange, human animal that was trying to decide whether to make friends, attack or run away.

So he sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I was wondering whether you really wanted to be King, and- if you do not- whether it was fair to your people to jealously occupy that position simply because of power."

"You are accusing me of power-hunger."

"I think you enjoy your status, yes. I know you are not a bad King. I only wonder whether you are doing the best you can do for the people of the Underground."

Jareth rubbed at his forehead in distraction, composing an answer carefully in his mind. He was not angry, because there really was no point in being angry, but he needed to be firm about this. Toby could not walk into his Castle and his life and judge him on what he could not understand. "Toby, it is none of your business whether or not I am a good King."

Toby's face lost that open look and Jareth almost heard a door slam as the regular features froze into placid blankness. He sighed inwardly and moved forward, cupping the strong jaw and rising up on his toes to brush a soothing kiss to Toby's mouth.

"Stop hiding your feelings," he whispered, "_I_ asked you. This is not a reprimand." He drew back and waited.

It took a while, but slowly Toby began to warily look curiously at him.

"Whether or not I am a good King is open to interpretation," Jareth continued slowly, firmly, "It is not your place to question me. Not because you are unequal to me in any way, but because you are not in the least aware of what I do. You see a small part. You know a little. But you cannot form a judgement on anything other than facts."

"I see."

"I hope you do." Jareth waved his hand and conjured up a clock, reading the time before dispatching it back to the ether. "Pray excuse me. I'm doing to the stables to spend some time with Serenity. You are welcome to join us if you would like."

Join '_us_'? For all the world as if Serenity and Jareth were planning to go for a walk and talk of everything from clouds to their childhood! Though knowing Jareth, perhaps they really would. "Thank you, no. I'm going to go take a look at those books and plan my schedule for tomorrow. You have chastised me enough for today." He allowed his lips to twist wryly to take any harm from the words.

Jareth smirked and offered a mocking nod. Whirling around, he strode away, running lightly down the steps.

Toby watched him go, breathing a loud sigh of ease as he felt the loneliness settle in. The prospect of an ordered day on the morrow, the ability to think in peace without fear of anyone reading his facial expressions- they all contributed to make the knots loosen in his shoulders.

Though, he was forced to admit, Jareth had done a good job of loosening him in the morning. That little shimmy of his fingertips on just that spot so close to… Toby didn't even realize that he had shut his eyes until the phantom shudder rippled through his abdomen. And then he snapped back to the present, opening his eyes and roundly scolding himself for being such an idiot.

It had been good sex. That was all. Luka had been good too.

Toby spared a wistful, bitter smile for his former boyfriend. Well, he said former because he wasn't sure if there was any kind of future in it. Luka would be gone for a year and he was going through this weird twelve-months' worth of outside experience. There was no way to contact each other. Would Luka even want to come back to him?

Toby did hope so. He regretted not having settled these questions before. Luke had tried to explain, Toby had said that he could not ever excuse what Luke had done and was ashamed of him, and then Luka had left the room. For all his overly emotional ways, Toby had been very surprised to see that his lover had been straight-backed and unwavering. Pride. He'd forgotten Luka's stern pride.

Quite the same as Jareth's, he mused. The Goblin King was just as proud and unflinching. He could see Jareth being just so unyielding in the circumstance.

The library was quiet and cool, smelt of old books and the Labyrinth, and had a small desk. It was a cramped space, but large enough to serve Toby's purpose. The books Jareth had set out for him were only numbered at two- so far- and both were slim volumes. But the leather was worn, cracked and faded. The pages were ragged at the edges and tearing, they were so thin. The writing, however, was so neat, so beautifully flowing, that Toby couldn't help but to sit down and read it.

_The Nature of the Chaos Stone_.

Toby felt his breath lurch as he realized what he was holding. The Medallion. The pure white stone that lay just behind the metal façade against Jareth's thin white shirts or hard white chest. The stone glimpsed only once, when Jareth had been asleep and the chain had twisted around his neck to leave the latter side open to any interested gaze.

"The power… The limitations… The liability of the individual… The properties… The oath?" Toby skimmed quickly through the unfamiliar chapter. "Goblin King… oath… protect… never revealed… to _what_?"

"I had wondered when you would reach that chapter," Jareth's voice drawled behind him.

Toby looked up and stared incredulously at Jareth, snapping it shut as if to prevent the sentences from escaping like an evil spell.

The Goblin King was standing in the doorway, smirking in his trademark knowing way, his arm folded across his chest and one hard shoulder pressed into the wooden doorframe. The medallion plainly glittered around his neck.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry for… I think this is not…" Toby shut up, took a deep breath and tried again. "I think there has been some mistake. Clearly you have given me the wrong book."

Jareth looked at the book and then back up to Toby's eyes. "No. Those are the two books I need rewritten. Do you have any difficulties with the task?"

"Your Majesty, this is not a book I am comfortable reading," Toby protested, "This is for your eyes alone."

"And I do hate copying from one book to another. I hated it when I was a boy and my tutor was teaching me the alphabet."

"Your Majesty…"

Jareth was beside him in a blink of the eye, never having moved until he lowered himself into Toby's lap and let one hand reach up to curl around the back of the mortal's neck. Leaning his forehead against Toby's, he took the book from nerveless fingers and blindly set it down on the table behind him.

"Listen to me," he said quietly, "There is no one else I can trust. I trust you to be discreet, to never tell anyone what you read in these two books, and I trust you not to make a mess of the job. Trust me in return."

"With what?" Toby sighed. It was too much like holding Luka in his arms, on those rare occasions when the fae had been sombre and brooding.

"Trust me to steer you right. Can you do that?" The pause stretched out longer than Jareth was comfortable with. "You still cannot trust me. Why? After everything I have ever done for you, why? I saved you. Gave you protection, family, life. I opened my lands and my home to you and you still cannot trust me?"

"No."

Jareth groaned but didn't move away. Instead his hand tightened on the back of Toby's neck and he seemed almost to contemplate pressing himself closer. "Do you expect me to hurt you in some way? To humiliate you?"

"Yes. Without meaning nastiness or humiliation, I think you will." Toby could hear himself speak, was horrified that he seemed to be so talkative. He had taught himself not to do that, to show what was necessary with a look or a touch, but never openly discuss his emotions. But the shock must have loosened his tongue.

"Is there a way I can change your mind?"

Toby thought about that. "My sister…" his voice cracked ever so slightly.

Jareth softened, his eyes shutting as if to block something from his vision. "What about her?" He still wouldn't move away.

"You could tell where she was every step of the way, isn't that so? You could tell when she was losing and when she was being helped. You could tell and you never stopped her?"

"On the contrary, I helped her," Jareth confided drolly. "That trip through the catacombs? She would have gone the wrong way had I not chased her the right way with the cleaners. Even then, I almost had a heart attack when the gates were closed. I tore down the wall for her."

Toby moved away, pulled his face away from the Goblin King's and deliberately broke that intimate contact. "Why?"

"Love can make you do things like that."

"You still love her?" Toby asked awkwardly.

Jareth stayed silent for a long time, eyes trained down to the first button of Toby's shirt. When he did look up, there was a sort of melancholy in his face. "I miss her. I wish she were alive, even if she had married someone else and borne some other man's child. I wouldn't care if she never spoke to me again, so long as I could watch her sometimes with her daughter, or see her grow old, or hear her voice."

"Then promise me on whatever it is you feel for my sister, that nothing will happen here unless I am agreeable," Toby demanded, "I will not be pushed further than I can go. And there are limits to how far that is."

"As you wish. Do you miss Luka?" It was an abrupt change of topic, but one so close to Toby's train of thought that he only felt a brief moment of wonder before signing that he was undecided.

"Then we both miss someone," Jareth commented briskly, getting off Toby's lap and going back to the door, "And that is as it should be. Please do not fall in love with me. I amtired of being adulated." He vanished as suddenly as he had come.

Toby growled to himself and grimaced at the door in place of the cocky fae he wanted in its place. The remembrance that Jareth could sense everything in his Labyrinth and see it in his mind's eye should he so want to, made the walls seem too narrow and the books too leering. But only for a moment. The next moment Toby gave himself a mental slap of the back and chided himself for being so fanciful.

Really! He hadn't had this queer a day since his first arrival to the Castle at the Centre of the Labyrinth!


	27. It's a Deal

"They have all arrived," Toby sighed, feeling far too tired as he peered in at the door.

The Goblin King grinned knowingly at him and nodded. "Run you ragged, did they? I'll be out in a minute. Ask Merilin to come here, please."

Toby looked confused, but obeyed. The elf looked far too smug as he made his soft excuses and left the Reception Hall to follow Toby up to the study. The mortal could feel sharp eyes bore into his back but chose not to say anything more than was required for him.

"Have you heard from Luka recently?" Merilin asked quietly.

"No," Toby answered, "Why? Is there news?"

"Apparently not. How is His Majesty? Treating you well?"

"We have an accord," Toby evaded. An accord! Had any more foolish word ever been used for such a circumstance of convenience?

"Ah. I am glad for you both. It would be awkward, I thought, considering his… history."

"His history is his own. It has nothing to do with me." They were almost there and Toby wished that Merilin would stop talking. The elf made him nervous at the best of times and subjects such as this were too delicate to discuss openly.

"I meant with your sister," Merilin said guilelessly. He met smouldering blue eyes with his most enigmatic smile. "Jareth did adore her. You must be a great comfort to him."

Before anger could begin, Toby's natural defence mechanisms kicked in. Instead of snarling- as he had done far too often in recent days- he tossed a bland smile down at Merilin's sleek curiosity and shrugged. "Comfort or Companionship- who knows? Ask your sister. She makes it a point to know Jareth's frame of mind at any given moment." He paused and then relished the little tip of the verbal dagger. "Or so everyone has noted."

Merilin barely faltered, but his silence was telling.

The mortal walked the last few steps to the door of the study, knocked, opened it and bowed him in.

Jareth was beginning to think that Toby could not be trusted with dealing with people. He had insulted the Duke, he had almost bitten off Ezreeka's nose over something or other and Buttress was complaining that his ward was nothing more than an uncouth savage. Now here was Merilin, a formidable influence on the elvish community, and he looked in no mood to be sweet-talked into anything. On the contrary, he looked as if he would disagree with the Labyrinth itself on principle!

"Welcome, Merilin."

The elf touched his chest and raised his fingers to his lips in a traditional salute as he bowed.

"Sit down, please."

"I had thought the rest of the Council would be called on for decisions as well," Merilin remarked acerbically.

Jareth used a momentary lull to glare at his impassive ward. There would be a talk later. For now, he had political fish to fry. Speaking of which… maybe something could be salvaged. "Come in, Toby, and shut the door."

Merilin looked even less pleased.

"Wine? Water?"

"Nothing, thank you. What is this about?"

"I have reports," Jareth began, picking up a handful of papers, "They give me sufficient news that everything in your world is calm." He picked up a box, tossed the papers in and then set the box down in front of Merilin. Without more than a glance, the papers caught fire and burnt away to ash.

Merilin raised an eyebrow and looked from the greedy flames in the box and then up to Jareth's pleasant face.

"Tell me again what the situation is," the Goblin King encouraged.

"There is nothing to tell you that you do not already know." Merilin picked his words with care. He knew Jareth too well to willingly get caught in this trap. "We are as we have always been."

"Hmmm. Interesting. I could have sworn that there was talk of meetings between you and a certain general from Gildred's army. One of his personal bodyguards if I am not mistaken."

"You are."

Jareth nodded as if to agree with some thought in his own blond head and then raised his hands. A slow, mocking smirk twisted over his mouth. He raised his hands and theatrically held each one out to show his audience that they were empty. Then he turned them over to prove the same thing. "Nothing," he announced. Leaning forward, his left fist closed on the air distressingly close to Merilin's nose. Drawing it back, he opened his hand again and offered the letter up for inspection. "Unless you know where to look."

Merilin stared warily at both letter and proffered hand.

"Open it," the fae urged.

He took it, opened it, scanned it and looked up with a semblance of polite enquiry on his face. "It is a letter from my father to his friend. Is there anything suspect in that?"

Toby was convinced that he was not supposed to be where he was. But Jareth had insisted that he sit in on every talk. There had been much dissention about it, but the Goblin King had gotten his way every time. Merilin, however, was a different person. Like Jareth, he was not as concerned with who was watching him so long as he could guarantee that he could manipulate his own decisions as final.

The elf stood up and moved around his host to place the letter on the desk, sauntering casually as if there had never been a less important meeting in the history of the Council. This time Toby watched Jareth. And he could see the Goblin King's mind picking up and discarding plans of action as Merilin chatted quite insubstantially about everything and nothing.

"Oh, is this Sarah?" he exclaimed, picking up the photograph from where it had been discreetly placed behind a pile of books. "How charming, Your Majesty! I had heard she was beautiful."

Jareth stilled.

"This picture doesn't do her justice, obviously," Merilin commented airily, putting back down and turning around with a soft smile. "Was there something else, Your Majesty?"

"This letter," the Goblin King returned, holding it up, "Is enough for me to walk out of this room and give orders for an investigation. My guards are not, er, very careful with other people's property or privacy. I would hate to inconvenience anyone."

"We live but to serve you, Your Majesty. Whatever you deem best."

"Good. Then you may tell your father and your father's friend to vacate their homes immediately. They are to take nothing but essentials. For safety's sake, they may stay with me. My goblins will bring them back with them after searching their dwellings. They will escort you there as well."

With each order it was clear that this was not something Merilin would want. Jareth was turning the tables on him, forcing him to either speak now or be publicly revealed. Toby noticed how the elf's hand had strayed too close to his side. It was not a movement that was necessarily very natural; unless there was something there that he was reaching more.

"I would advise you not to think of making an escape from this room," Jareth pointed out, clearly thinking the same thing, "There are two against you here and more guards outside."

Merilin looked genuinely surprised and then smiled sheepishly down at his hand as he removed it from his pocket. "I apologize," he supplied, "I meant nothing of the kind."

The Goblin King smiled and waved back to the chairs. "Then sit, Merilin. I haven't finished this talk."

"As you wish."

"Good. I _like_ suppliance."

Toby rolled his eyes at the cheerful vanity. He remained standing, though, taking care that no one was about to get hurt.

Jareth sat down and leaned back. "There has to be some reason that this 'recent arrival' is of so much interest. Here is what I think- I think this letter was written to Madigh and details the facts surrounding my sister's return to her home. I think that this information is being bought with promises of sanctuary in the event of evasion or civil upheaval and that Gildred himself has no idea about any of it."

Toby could only see the back of Merilin's head but the elf hadn't moved a muscle to betray himself. No jerk of his head, no stiffening of his shoulders or straightening of his spine.

"It could be possible," Merilin replied, "I would not know."

"It is all speculation in any case. I can _prove_ none of this." Jareth didn't even need proof. He was absolute ruler of the Underground. He could accuse Merilin of treason and plotting and no one would interfere. "I only wish that I did know the author of this letter."

"Why? What would you say to him?"

"Nothing of any importance. I would get rid of him and be done with the whole business. But since I do know who he is, there is little chance of that."

From the way he spoke, the Goblin King sounded as if he had no authority whatsoever. Neither of the other two males in the room bought his powerless façade. If there was one thing that Jareth exuded, it was that he was powerful and extremely ready to prove it.

"Of course, I could wish that the author of this letter would find out why exactly this information is needed. With my sister's life in the balance… you see my predicament."

Merilin sat up and stretched keenly. "Your Majesty, are you asking me to find out why Madigh has been baiting me for this information?"

"That, my friend, is exactly what I want. Ask him why he wants to know about my sister, find out whether Gildred is aware of his interest in Jervohl and then report to me on the matter. I won't ask you to act on her behalf; just gather the information."

"Fair enough. And my, er, punishment?"

The Goblin King smiled. "Do such a thing again and I will break you."

Merilin chuckled quietly and got up, turning around to get to the door. He barely glanced at the mortal but he did smile slightly, thinking of a pleasantly pointed barb he was storing up for him. Ah well. It wouldn't do to annoy the Goblin King further by insulting his ward in front of him. And since it would involve mention of Sarah Williams, well, it would be suicide to even mention it in Jareth's hearing.

The door closed and Jareth stood up as well, sighing to himself. "Something will have to be done about him," he remarked softly, conjuring up a crystal and watching the departing elf in it, "He is growing too bold."

"Strip him of power," Toby suggested, "Or make it publicly clear that he doesn't have your favour."

Jareth shook his blond head. "Not enough. There are too many who do not like me either. In which case they could seriously undermine me. Merilin is far too good at playing mind games."

"Am I listening to you fearing defeat?" Considering the sudden flame in those differently coloured eyes, Toby instantly signed his apology.

"I am not afraid of him." The soft words were clipped and sharp. "My work is done. Tell the rest that they can go home. I do not need the Council now."

"What? But you have yet to hold the meeting!"

"And I do not want to hold it. So they can go home." That was all Jareth would say on the matter. He sat down again, laid the displaced photo aside and shuffled papers into piles of some kind.

All Toby could do was grimace to himself at the expected outrage he would face on behalf of his guardian and leave.


	28. Chaos

"All of that, just to talk to an elf?" Jervohl exploded, "Are you mad? You've just angered the most influential people, you underdressed illiterate!"

The Goblin King sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Jervohl, stop talking," he ordered simply.

"No, I will not! You interfere in my _private_ affairs, Jareth. You cannot possibly expect me to forgive that. I _will not_ forgive that! I cannot! How dare you?"

Jareth turned to look at his mother. "Why does everyone ask me that?" he remarked plaintively.

Had Toby been in the room, he would surely have noted that his guardian sounded genuinely puzzled, and even a little hurt, at being shouted at in such a manner. Had Toby been there, he would have marvelled at Jareth's absolute inability to see his guilt, or to respect another person's point of view. Thankfully, Toby was not there. He was in Jareth's private library, stewing over the two books that needed immediate replacement. He had lately begun to wonder why Jareth didn't just wish them copied; it would be well within the fae's scope.

"Jareth, you really are a blockhead," Pandora snapped in reply, obviously miffed and taking no pains to hide it. "You upset the entire Kingdom on a whim."

"Oh, he has done worse," Jervohl snarled, lifting her skirts so she could pace without tripping over. The embroidered white overlay was beginning to look rather crumpled. "He refused to officiate at his own friend's wedding."

Jareth sat up straight with a growl. "You have no right to judge me."

"Tell us why, dear brother. Was it because you wanted no part of his 'stupid decision'? Hmmm? He was marrying a dwarf, after all! How terrible for someone so close to you! And you say you aren't racist."

"Jervohl, you are beginning to try my patience," her brother warned.

Pandora sat quiet and listened. No good had ever come of interfering between the two during a fight. For all their similarities, they were both of the disposition to find someone equally as strong-willed a pain. They were fiercely loyal, but fiercely critical as well. And this time, Dieter was not there to keep the peace.

"Good! It is about time someone disturbed your smug self-congratulation. Nothing you have ever done has ever been with any kind of good intent. You and that pile of chaos of yours."

"Insult me if you wish but leave my Labyrinth out of it!"

"_Your_ Labyrinth? Gods be damned, _your_ Labyrinth! The messy thing chose you, not the other way around it. You have no power over me, Jareth, so do not think to even…"

The flash of lightening snapped across the room before the Goblin King had even thought.

'_You have no power over me._'

Jervohl, to her credit, never made a sound. She stumbled, true, and tears started at the pain but she never screamed or cursed. Instead, she took a few minutes to take stock and then straightened, her right hand protecting the badly burned flesh on her upper left arm. Cloth had burnt away and flesh had blistered and torn.

One look at the steel anger in those blue-hazel eyes and Jervohl knew that Jareth had very nearly killed her. Long years of prudent training and deflating ego took her from the room, not even bothering to wait to close the door before rapidly walking away.

Pandora stood stock still, her hands still covering her mouth, her eyes still wide and terrified. The first thing in her head was a chorus of gratitude that Jareth had pulled back at the last minute. The second thing in her head was that she had spawned a positively evil male.

"This," she eventually whispered, fighting to get her stunned nerves to under control, "Is too much. I never brought you up to this."

"Spare me the lecture," Jareth spat.

She left too, slamming the door shut before the heel of her shoe had landed beyond the wooden structure. The sound echoed down the corridor and it only served as some kind of ever-growing accusation.

Jareth snarled at nothing and threw himself into a chair, resting an elbow on the arm and dropping his face into the open palm. Too much had been said in one day, far too much. He had overplayed his hand and he should really have learned not to do that by now. He should have learned!

Pile of chaos, she said.

Without thought his right hand clenched around his medallion. His! Not anyone else's, but his. He had earned it. Fought for it tooth and nail. Trials and tests in the dreams the Labyrinth always sent when it chose. Sometimes for one night, other times for a year. The Labyrinth chose, but it never appointed until the final test was complete. Until it was _satisfied_. The country could run itself but no King would ever ascend that throne until the Labyrinth was certain the male was ready.

He heard the jokes. He knew what people said about him and his methods of ruling. He knew people questioned whether he was any use at all. It didn't matter to him. Whatever his failings, he had _earned_ his right to be where he was.

He lifted his head and sighed, shutting his eyes and letting his senses slip out of the bounds of his body. This was chaos in its purity, knowing everything simultaneously, watching as if from a far point as people acted without knowing he was there. Grainy pictures, flat and slightly muffled and yet so achingly alive!

Evidently, Jervohl really was in pain. An annoyance, that. But he could wish the pain away even if he couldn't heal her and that should go some way to relieving whatever anger she felt towards him. She'd known what was coming. Gildred had evidently not squashed her sharp tongue enough. Little brat! He should have dunked her into a basin of water when she'd been an infant.

His mother, however, was quite another kettle of fish. Jareth could see her, standing with Jervohl and Hettie, the two older women fussing over her and soothing her as best they could. The blue gown was crushed kneeling on the floor and her hair had pulled from the snood when she ran a harassed hand through her hair in a fit of frustration. She looked somehow older, though once again, what he was seeing was only a perception of his knowing.

He sighed again and opened his eyes. No, cajoling the Lady Pandora back from anger would not be quite that easy. Unless…

Toby had had no idea about any of it. Any feel of magic in the air was completely out of his reach; his natural senses could not pick up on it. But he had been busy in any case, keeping his hands and eyes steady and focused as he worked laboriously over the text.

A knock on the door had startled him not a few minutes ago. "Come in?" he had called, wondering why Jareth or the two females would knock. They were private people, but they reserved their courtesy for private rooms only. This was not a private room.

The first thing he had seen was a tray with a silver jug. The next thing he had seen was the food. Steaming hot, too! And smelling divine. The third and final observation was that the tray had thick, bandy legs that waddled towards him.

"Gibil?" Toby guessed, trying to peer around the tray.

The goblin face poked up and grinned shyly at him. "I broughts ya some food."

"Thank you." Toby stifled a grin. The little guy had attached himself to the mortal with a vengeance. Toby had only to stay in the library for over four hours and Gibil would come to see if he needed anything. Considering he had just brought food without question said a lot for the goblin's growing acceptance.

Toby had uncoiled himself from the chair and courteously took the tray away. He set it down on the table and sat down on the floor to talk to the little creature still hovering uncertainly in the room. "Is there something wrong?"

"N- nothing, Sir! Nothing at all!"

"Gibil, you're trembling," Toby had pointed out gently, "Perhaps I may be of help."

"No." Gibil's nose twitched unhappily.

Toby had changed his tactic. "Gibil, tell me what is wrong," he ordered, hardening his voice just a little.

Large, dirty brown eyes widened and Gibil had actually scrambled backwards. "My mother, Sir," the goblin babbled, "She be's sick, Sir. Ain't gonna see the New Year, Sir."

Toby winced and tried to think of what to say. "I am sorry."

"S'okay," Gibil shrugged, "Gots to die sometimes, eh?"

Typical goblin philosophy- why fight fate? The goblins were a remarkably unflappable people. They took everything in their stride and adapted to it. Well, attempted to adapt to it. There was something that Toby was certain they did fear and since the 'something' chose that moment to stalk into the room and throw Gibil bodily out of it, he could only sympathize with the poor creatures.

So Toby had stood up, dusted himself off and glared at his guardian as the fae shut the door on Gibil's pained squeak and moan. "That," he said softly, "Was unnecessary."

Jareth raised an eyebrow and looked back at the door. "The rat was in my way," he answered, "Never tell me you actually _like_ to talking to goblins?"

"I find them smarter than most people give them credit for," Toby agreed. He moved away, deliberately keeping face and voice colourless. Accusing Jareth of cruelty was an unprofitable action. Toby knew better than to imply it.

"They can barely string words together, let alone have them make sense," the Goblin King commented dryly, "A singularly useless lot as far as conversation goes."

Toby's bad humour deepened. He pushed the books away and began to eat slowly, refusing to reply. The touch of supple leather on his shoulder made him look up. He swallowed and looked enquiring.

"I need a favour," the Goblin King told him.

Gibil limped back to the kitchen, not unduly upset about the attack on his person. His nose was bruised and his hip, but that was to be expected. Mally stepped out and glared at him from down the corridor, obviously meaning to have a few words about his continued flaunting of the unwritten rules. Gibil ducked down a small corridor, took a turn into an empty suite, through to another door, down the laundry chute and into the bright washroom with its chattering throng of goblin servants. Grinning at the exhilaration, he broke out into a paroxysm of gossip in his own language, teased one of the females that he'd known since he'd been a babe and limped his way back to his original duties.

Mally grumbled and hissed a few choice curses at the smaller goblin servant. Gibil was a troublemaker, one of those who wanted to change things. Goblins didn't like change. Mally considered himself a true goblin. Approaching anyone in the Goblin King's private wing without being summoned was simply not permissible. But no matter how much Mally tried, he could not catch that bloody Gibil! There was always some way or another that Gibil found to make his way to meeting that Mr. Williams.

"Out of my way, please," a female voice said behind him.

Jumping almost out of his polished armour, Mally spun around and bowed, apologizing profusely to Ms. Jervohl as she swept past him with barely a look. Had he allowed himself to look about her delicate ankles, he would have noticed that her arm was in a sling and her face was drawn with anger. Her green eyes sparkled and she made straight for the Goblin King's rooms.

That- Mally knew what that entailed. He went away very discreetly so as not to overhear the yelling or smashing objects that was bound to occur.

Toby was eyeing his educator warily at that exact moment, wondering why he had agreed to a plan as ridiculous as all this when it would only draw him into a family situation that it was not his place to interfere in. But Jareth was sucking the juice out of a particularly sweet fruit and being far too reasonable to ignore.

Well, until Jervohl swept into the room without so much as knocking and proceeding to say some very unflattering things in Fae. Jareth had straightened in his seat and then shot a contemplative look at Toby as if wondering how he could get rid of him. Toby was not feeling charitable. He was feeling ill used, underappreciated and rather vengeful. So he smirked slowly at the Goblin King and settled down in his chair, clearly turning his interested eyes to Jervohl's startlingly pale face and listening in unashamedly.

Gradually it began to dawn on him that he was being rude. Less than a sentence later he was utterly uncomfortable by what he was hearing.

Jareth had, apparently, ruined Jervohl's life in any way that he possibly could and she was refusing to allow him to get away with it any more. He was a terrible son and an uncaring brother, capable of selling his grandmother down the river for self- gratification. He had been terrible to her as a child, playing tricks on her and teasing her most unbearably until she cried. Any insecurities about her own self-worth were his doing and no one else's. He had deliberately slept with her fiancé and broken her heart. This had, of course, led to her capture by Gildred and her ransom to work with him for nineteen years. He little knew how she had suffered and what she had been forced to do to stay alive. He had made her homecoming hard and managed to twist it around to his advantage again. He had deliberately thrown her ex-fiancé back into her life and opened old wounds, as well as meddled in her affairs concerning Gildred and made things worse. Plus, he had had the temerity to wound her physically when she'd tried to tell him these things before.

By the time she paused to take a breath, Toby took the moment to get to his feet and try to make his way discreetly to the door. It was an unfortunate movement. Jervohl's smouldering green eyes fixed on him for a long moment and then she whipped back to Jareth and tore into him once more.

"And what about the way you treat people," she ranted, "This man is the brother to the girl that you were in love with. Her brother! And how do you treat him? Less than a servant. Less than a thinking, feeling person. You embarrass him, put him down, act without thought for his feelings and even through all of that you seem to believe you are doing him some sort of favour! Are you just so dense that you cannot see what lies before your pointed nose, you egocentric, pompous owl?"

Jareth had been very quiet for the entire exchange, sitting still in his chair and listening politely for his sister to finish. At this, he almost smiled. Seeing her pause for breath again, he cast a quick spell.

Jervohl's eyes widened as her jaw locked and wouldn't move. Fighting the magic at first, she glared when she found there was literally nothing she could do.

Jareth stood up and went around her to grab Toby by the arm. "Stay," he ordered, "You have already heard everything and since my sister has decided to champion your cause, I think there are some answers I need to give."

He turned, waved a hand at Jervohl and released her from her physical discomfort. "My dear, I have already apologized for what happened between myself and Crase. It was a mutual mistake caused by drunkenness. For whatever happened in our childhood, I will not apologize," he began, "We were children and we acted as such. Besides which, any teasing I may have done was to stop your incessant need to follow us every where."

"Us?" Toby broke in. He couldn't help it. It was an awkward situation and it made him nervous.

Mismatched eyes barely looked at him as deft fingers unwound the sling and the bandages. "My brother Dieter, Elban and myself."

"The Terrible Three," Jervohl spat out, "And what was I to do? Sit at home with my needlework and painting? Talk to our tutor?"

"You had your friends," Jareth pointed out, "We were three immature little boys that did not want anything to do with girls at the time. Suffice it to say we have all been sufficiently punished. Elban still does not want anything to do with girls and Dieter died because of a girl."

Jervohl clicked her tongue in frustration but Toby felt his mouth open again. "And you?" he asked softly.

A slow smirk and a gloved hand carefully covered the badly burnt flesh. "I like girls a little too much. Ah, Mistress Irony, such of life's lessons you do teach us."

"You made me break my wrist climbing a tree," Jervohl said thickly, "I still have not forgiven you for that."

For all the emotions openly displayed in her voice, Jareth was once again impressed by the strength of the female members of his family. Jervohl had barely reacted when he'd peeled the crusted bandages away to reveal what he had done. She hadn't done more than flinch when he applied his hand to it, never mind the agony. She was strong, proud and right now very hurt and angry. He could hardly blame her, given her stimulus.

"That was Dieter," he remarked, "Elban was on your side, however. If I recall, his insistence that we should not ask you to do something so dangerous was what made you decide to accept Die's challenge in the first place."

She shrugged and then coughed as he applied a little more pressure. "What are you doing?" she choked out, her breath caught in her throat from the pain.

"Trying to feel the extent of the damage I caused," came the brusque answer. "There. Is the pain gone?"

She shook the arm and nodded. Turning to face her brother, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed the tip of his nose in an affectionate gesture. "The next time," she warned, "Do not expect me to talk to you after such a thing. My sword will speak for me and you are not yet back up to your usual skill."

He sighed and nodded, smiling a little.

She let go and took a seat. Toby stiffened as he realized that the books were in plain sight. He tossed a wild look at the Goblin King's strong profile and saw nothing more than a cool interest directed at his sister. The mortal took his cue and forced himself to calm down. He focused on the delicate embroidery on Jervohl's gown to help himself.

"Now for the rest," Jareth continued, turning to lay a hand on Toby's arm, "You brought up certain concerns about this young man, here. I shall leave him to answer them."

Toby lost his calm and looked wildly at Jareth once more.

Jervohl stifled a smile.

"What?" Toby asked.

"Well?" Jareth sounded impatient. "Have I mistreated you? Embarrassed you? Used you shamefully and disrespectfully? Have I been neglectful and uncaring?"

Toby looked between Jervohl's open grin to Jareth's annoyed face. Then he saw the mischievous twinkle in those dual coloured eyes and slumped. "You _are_ a trickster," he snapped, not meaning it as a compliment, "Damn you, you almost had me running out the door in a panic!"

Jareth chuckled and let go of his arm. "Truthfully, Toby. If Jervohl has concerns, then so will you. Let's hear them."

Toby pondered that. It was a private matter and he wished Jervohl would absent herself, but as she was the one that had brought up the subject in the first place, he decided he could ignore her continued presence in the room. "You were always an absent guardian," he pointed out slowly, "You seem to think that I am here to be of service to you and you are not the easiest person to get along with."

Jareth nodded. "One, you were never interested in meeting me," he replied swiftly, counting them out on his fingers, "The one time that I did attempt to make contact with you, you ran away. Two, you are not here to be of service to me, but as I cannot teach you how to be a King of the Underground, I can assist you in acquiring the skills needed for a secretary or a gentleman with duties. I give you tasks that only allow you a deeper insight into the land that you call your own. Three, I am not the easiest person to get along with for anyone. I see no reason to change for you. I am as I am. I cannot be other than that. Those who do live a lie and I think I know your stand on dishonesty."

Just like that, Jareth had turned his every argument against him! Toby felt like scowling but didn't, felt like resigning himself to the situation but didn't. After all, just because Jareth was Jareth, it did not mean that he could excuse him in ways he would do for no one else. He said as much, not catching the avid speculation on Jervohl's face as she began to look at him in a peculiar way. His eyes were on Jareth, and the way that the fae seemed inordinately pleased at such a statement.

"People have excused you too much in your life," Toby said robustly, "I am not one of them, unfortunately. I think you are selfish and an intellectual snob. I think you place too much emphasis on your pride and the respect you feel you are owed. I do not approve of the way you treat people and most especially the goblins. I also think that you are a cheat and a manipulator."

"I take it you do not like cheats and manipulators," Jareth remarked, almost purring under the mortal's focus. He decided he liked it. Toby had a certain distance about him, a way of separating himself from everyone else. But when he was speaking his mind, nothing but the subject at hand occupied his mind. The Goblin King had always liked being the centre of attention momentarily.

"No, I do not. None of this was meant as a compliment, Jareth."

"I know," the fae agreed, looking smugly content with himself.

Toby shook his head and sighed. Turning away, he saw a brief flash of some unidentified concern in her eyes before she adopted a neutral mask. Concern. Had he been too forward in his plain-speaking? He replayed what he had said and was aghast at himself. Thinking quickly, he smiled deprecatingly and picked up the other side of what he had said. "On the other hand," he said, "He has been very gentle with me. I have no actual complaint against him that is personal. He treats me as he treats anyone else, and if that is excusable, then I apologize."

"No need to apologize," Jervohl laughed, standing up and flicking the unwrapped bandaging at him, "Jareth can be quite charming when it is in his interests. Just ask the Duke."

"The Duke?"

Jervohl looked nervously at Jareth, suddenly conscious that she had said the wrong thing. Toby narrowed his eyes at the Goblin King and folded his arms across his chest as he always did when he was angry.

Jareth groaned and raised a hand to hide his eyes for a moment. "The Duke was not, ah, agreeable to my role in your educating."

Jervohl snorted. "He flatly refused to condone it, Jareth. He called it indirect incest."

The Goblin King grimaced and shuddered delicately. "Of all the things I have ever been accused of," he said tellingly, "This is the worst."

"Incest?" Toby still didn't get it.

"Your sister," Jervohl explained, "There have been rumours of… what might have happened to Sarah when in the Labyrinth. She was only fifteen but as Jareth fell in love with her at that age, it is quite possible that he might have seduced her without thought. The air that billows through his ridiculous shirts must have frozen all good sense out of him because he has yet to deny those rumours."

Toby was frozen, never mind Jareth's good sense. He could barely breath at the moment, let alone voice all the little voices in his head that told him that he had been right to distrust Jareth and that the fae would be damned for such a damnable act.

"I never did it," Jareth said clearly, not liking the suddenly blank look in Toby's blue eyes. There was always something there, never total blankness.

Toby shook his head and said nothing. Sarah had been fifteen! The same mouth that kissed him had kissed her so intimately? The hands that were slowly mapping out his body every evening had been… had been… He felt bile in the back of his throat.

"Toby?" Jareth shoved him backwards until the backs on his calves hit the chair. He fell into it automatically. "Jervohl, some water. There, on the table."

She handed him the glass and the male fae carefully pressed it into Toby's hand. Considering Toby was still not responding, he wrapped his own fingers over Toby's and raised the glass to his mouth, using his other hand to tip the mortal's head back a little. He forced the issue, hoping he wasn't doing something wrong.

Toby swallowed whatever was in his mouth but it didn't seem to make much difference, so Jareth used the only other stimulus he knew. He took the glass away, handed it back to Jervohl and then tipped the mortal's head back a little more. Bending down, he brushed his lips gently over the slack mouth. Once, twice, three times, and then he deepened it, pressing more urgently.

Toby wasn't in quite as much shock as all that. He had stayed silent, hoping the other two would go away and leave him to think- or tear himself apart in guilt- in peace. When Jareth had first kissed him, he'd had to restrain himself from pushing the Goblin King away and wiping his mouth in disgust. But Jareth hadn't noticed and persisted. Toby gasped slightly and pulled away.

The Goblin King backed away immediately, looking relieved. Jervohl's worried face peered over his shoulder. Toby shook his head and blinked warily up at them both.

"Are you alright?" Jervohl's question.

"Fine," he said, panting a little.

"Are you sure? Some water? It will ease the muscles in your throat and jaw," Jervohl offered.

He took it wordlessly and sipped. Jareth was still just looking at him, obviously waiting for an explanation. Well, he did not owe anyone an explanation! He would not give Jareth that satisfaction. "Did you seduce Sarah?" he asked quietly.

"No," Jareth said matter-of-factly.

"You spied on her when she returned Aboveground."

"Never at inappropriate moments. When she undressed, when she bathed, when she was in her bed and…"

"Never mind. I do not want to know. You swear to me that you are not lying?"

"Yes. But would it matter if I had slept with her?"

Toby looked disgusted. "I will not sleep with my dead half-sister's lover. It is bad enough knowing that the only reason I am alive and tolerated is because you loved Sarah. I will not be compared to her in bed as well."

"It would be a little difficult," Jareth smirked, "You are two very different people. Sarah would have been… passive. One makes love _to_ a woman like Sarah."

Toby shuddered to think about that; so was he for the most part. He frowned slightly. At least, he was with Jareth. With Luka he had been an active participant. But with Jareth he just lay back and took it. Shockingly, he realized that it was almost a month and he had yet to even initiate a kiss let alone actually touch Jareth beyond tangling his fingers in long blond hair or stroking a lean back.

"This is ridiculous," he moaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to shut the rest of the world out.

Jareth patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Welcome to the world of adults, Toby. Consider this another part of your educating. Things happen that you are not prepared for. You cannot escape that."

"Like you and Sarah?" Toby snapped sarcastically, "Stop preaching at me, Jareth. I know enough about human emotions."

Jareth suddenly thought something else. He turned around to find his sister in a sort of moody contemplation of the floor. Her face was sad and her eyes were lowered. She stood with her head bowed and her hands clasped lightly in front. It was the expression she had first presented herself with. An expression of loss. He wished very much that both Toby and Jervohl would take themselves somewhere else for help with their problems.

"Jervohl!" he snapped.

Her eyes shot up and she straightened. "Yes?"

"Don't you start crying again," he warned, "I will have you thrown out of this room if you do."

She smiled and assured him that she had never felt less like crying. A singular lie considering the catch in her voice.

"Jervohl, since we are on the subject, Gildred seems to have some sort of plan concerning you," Jareth said, "If you had listened to me at the start of all this, we could have sorted this out a long time ago. Have you any idea why Madigh wants to know where you are and what you are doing?"

Jervohl looked startled and then worried. "No. He got the promotion and I am no further use to him. None that I know of, anyway."

"Hm. Right. It appears you have an enemy that is of some considerable threat and therefore I will do two things. One, you will be confined to my Castle. I'll speak to Mother on that score. No doubt she will elect to stay as well. Two, you need a bodyguard."

Jervohl looked annoyed. "I am perfectly able to protect myself," she protested, "I do not require a goblin two-feet off the ground to poke anyone in the ankle for me!"

"Fine. Then a goblin is out. An elf?"

"Jareth! I do not need a bodyguard. Madigh is probably just being cautious, trying to ensure that I do not cause Gildred any inconvenience. There is nothing to fear." She was being optimistic and she knew it. "Does Gildred know of this?"

"No. Which is why I suspect Madigh. You will have a bodyguard and I will not allow you to say no. Just think of what Mother will do to me if I let you die."

"Castrate you," Jervohl retorted, "And then take you apart piece by piece."

"Exactly. Which is why you will have a bodyguard of my choice and you will like it." He looked appropriately fierce and Toby, still winded by the sudden change in subject, thought it rather funny. "I am certain that Toby will appreciate the exercise and companionship."

"What?"

Jareth looked around to his ward. "Leave the books. I will do them. You have some skill with a sword and most people in this dimension will think twice before fighting someone that looks as if his ancestry contains traces of Giantry."

Toby flushed. But somehow, the allusion to his size and bulk did not sound like an insult, rather like a compliment. It was oddly flattering. "Thank you," he said wryly, "But why me? Surely someone more worthy…"

"Who else? A goblin guard? No. Madigh will send his best if he sends any assassin at all, and while my goblins are good, they are not right. Perhaps one of the fae?" He skimmed over his own personal contingent of bodyguards that he refused permission to enter his Castle on pain of death unless he called but discarded them all. "No. You live here, therefore are instantly available. Jervohl respects you and likes you. Besides, you seem to share an understanding. You need only fight with her, not for her. My sister is no helpless chit."

"She bested me," Toby admitted, "Helpless is not what I would call her."

Jervohl grinned in spite of herself. "Thank you. In which case I would point out that I could handle any assassin that Madigh sends, even should he send one. Jareth, you are being overprotective."

Mismatched eyes narrowed. "Is that so wrong? If I protect my sister? I will not suffer your death twice in twenty years, Jervohl. And Mother has lost enough children in her lifetime, has she not?"

Jervohl fumed. It was low of her brother to use their only living parent as a bargaining chip. How could she refuse that? Yes, the Lady Pandora had been devastated when her husband died. That had not even described how badly her second child son's death had hit her. Her ill health stemmed from the intense shock she had received then. Jervohl could only imagine how her own supposed death had affected the older female.

"Has she not?"

"Yes."

"Good. It is settled."

"But Jareth, perhaps someone else. I do not think I am…"

"Toby, just accept it. I chose you for a reason." Jareth had been nice enough for one day. He got off the floor and rubbed his neck as he stretched. "Since this conversation is done, I intend to take Serenity out for a ride. Would you care to join us?" He looked between the both of them.

Toby shook his head and smiled uneasily.

Jervohl was less handy with her feelings. Glaring openly at Jareth, she ignored him completely. "I am sorry, Toby. You know how His Majesty can be. I will try to make this easier on you." And then she left, taking her bandages with her.

Jareth rolled his eyes but didn't seem too upset. "Good. Glad that was sorted. Now, Toby- remember what you have promised." His ward looked confused. "Put my mother in a good mood. Suggest a game of taron after dinner and that should do the trick. She has a passion for taron."

"I hate taron."

"Does she know that?"

"No. She loves it so much I cannot bear to tell her."

"Good. Then we play taron after dinner. Hopefully, she will be susceptible to a good humour then. Thank you. Excuse me." He vanished, leaving his ward to shake his head and wonder why he alone of every mortal in existence had had to be adopted into the family.


	29. Take the Plunge

"Come with me."

Toby looked from the hand held out to him to the fae looking up at him, a teasing smirk on his face. He disliked those words immensely. They usually meant doing something that would disrupt the rest of his life. "No," he replied firmly.

"What have I done this time?"

Toby glowered at him. "You made me the unwilling bodyguard of a very unwilling female fae that could certainly best me in any fight. What use am _I_ supposed to be?"

"Toby, we have been over this," Jareth snapped, "I said what I said and I will not unsay it. You are being most unreasonable."

"_I _?"

"Yes. Now, since both my mother and Jervohl have decided to assist Yava in some manner of cleaning marathon, I suggest we leave the Castle before I get roped in to do any more work than I already do."

"You do no work," Toby snarked.

"Exactly. And I plan to keep it that way. Will you come with me or not?"

Toby smouldered down at the fae. Jareth was in one of his contrary moods. It was impossible to tell how far he could push him. And resisting him always led to trouble. Just see what had happened when he'd attempted to talk Jareth out of this ridiculous bodyguard idea! The Goblin King had grown so soft and deadly that a goblin got its arm broken being thrown against a wall. But maybe…"I will not go along with this insane plan."

Jareth only rolled up his sleeves and pulled out a narrow band to tie up his hair. "Stop being so narrow-minded. I guarantee that you will enjoy yourself. I know I will."

Again. Toby cocked his head. It was strange to hear those words. From the look on Jareth's face, he didn't think he had said anything out of place. But Toby heard something else: he heard a reminder that the Goblin King had yet to be touched. An entire month had gone by and for some reason Jareth always manipulated his way into staying out of touch. It was most peculiar.

The mortal sighed. "Very well, then," he agreed, "I suppose it won't hurt."

"I am pleased to hear it." The hand dropped and Jareth paraded away out the door, completely unconcerned about whether his companion was to follow.

For the longest time that was exactly what happened. Jareth stalked around in front, meandering from side to side like a child too busy trying to see everything there was to see and trying to see it all _now_. Toby felt far too much like a parent as he followed less enthusiastically behind. What a thought! Jareth being over a hundred would make him old enough to be one of Toby's ancestors. But there he was, bounding around without actually bounding at all. It was most peculiar.

So deep in thought, Toby never even noticed what was happening before Jareth suddenly disappeared out from in front of him. A few moments later, he started out of his brown study to find that the fae's voice was calling him from somewhere just beyond the hedge to his right. He made his way through it and looked around.

Only to be pushed into a river.

He yelled, froze in the cold water and glared up at the now laughing fae that was sitting upon the bank.

Toby was not amused. He sloshed his way back to Jareth, grabbed him by the arm and the laugh petered out somewhat as the Goblin King raised an eyebrow waiting to see what his pet mortal would do. Toby had plenty of spine; he just never used it. Jareth was used to that. But now, there was a nice little spark in those burning blue eyes.

Toby grinned maliciously out of nowhere and yanked him with him back into the water. Jareth spluttered but laughed again and struck out, swimming cleanly to the other side. He got out, stripped off his wet shirt and boots and hopped back in. Toby couldn't help grinning, shaking his head at such juvenile antics. When a soft blast of magic jerked his knee out from under him, he went under with a gulp of water.

Another short surge, even though he couldn't feel it, took his shirt away and his shoes. Confronted with a completely serene blink of innocence from mismatched eyes, Toby swore vengeance. It was stupid and childish, but it _had_ been ages since he'd played chase in a river. And it _was_ all Jareth's fault so that was all right too.

They finally clambered out of the river a good hour later, thoroughly drenched and pleasantly relaxed.

Toby was a little less winded than his companion. Jareth, it seemed, had no stamina. He had short bursts of energy and then floated around contentedly with a far-away look on his face. He did that so often.

Blue eyes sobered at the thought, watching as the Goblin King threw himself onto the grassy bank with a sigh and then yelped, sitting up long enough to get the pebble out from under his back. Toby said nothing at first, of course; he waited for Jareth to settle down before voicing his thoughts.

"You spend a lot of time tapping into the magical currents," he said.

One eye- the blue one- opened and Jareth looked slightly puzzled. "I never know when I am needed."

"But every few minutes? Surely the land will tell you if something is wrong?"

"The land cannot always speak loud enough," Jareth replied, folding his arms behind his head like a pillow, "If whole ranks were to march past the borders dressed in armour and chanting war slogans, then yes. The land would tell me that. But if a single murderer spills blood on the soil, or a small forest fire begins… the entire land will not feel enough hurt to gain my attention. Especially if I am busy at the time."

"That makes some sense. It seems very strange, however. Why is it no one really knows what the kingship requires from you? Most people think you only drift from one day to next. It seems a little unfair to you."

"A lot of things seem unfair. It is simple strategy; even discarding the oath I take as the Goblin King. In the lonely depths of the Labyrinth, of course- no one must even _hear_ the oath."

"Then why have I been told?"

The blue eye opened again, this time accompanied by a decidedly self-satisfied smirk. "You are not a citizen of the Underground."

Toby laughed and shook his head. "You," he pointed out, "Are a bad influence on an impressionable young man."

"And are you an impressionable young man?"

"Once, maybe, a few years ago. Not lately."

Jareth stilled for a minute and Toby saw him bite his lip, the tiny line appearing between his brows again. It meant he was either thinking very hard, or concentrating again. Silence descended for around fifteen minutes as the fae sorted out whatever it was that worried him. Toby held still and kept a watch out, ready to shake him out of the trance if he looked to be falling too deep into it.

The concern wasn't needed. In a matter of minutes the lean body melted back into the grass in its usual boneless way and the damp skin stopped papering bunched muscles.

Toby cleared his throat warningly. "Gone?"

"Barroom fight in the Goblin City," Jareth commented, seemingly randomly, "Too much use of the word 'revolution' and 'overthrow' for my liking."

"What did you do?"

"Threw a table at the lot of them. That should be enough."

Toby shook his head in exasperation. "And I suppose being harsh will endear you to them? You're as bad as Luka! His groom wanted to leave so he threatened to whip him until he saw sense."

Jareth snorted and shifted again. "Fool," he muttered, "Always said he was half-witted."

Toby ignored the comment. He didn't want to think about his former boyfriend. Not when, for the first time, Jareth's long body was laid out for him to examine at his leisure. Jareth somehow always managed to flit away in bed. But here he was, lying still in sunlight, wet breeches turning into nothing more than a second skin. Jareth was… well, wiry. He wasn't skinny, but he was certainly not large. No body hair, which was normal for a fae. His skin seemed soft, though Toby knew from personal experience that being pressed up against that chest was the very opposite of soft.

He didn't notice a very amused fae peep at him from below his eyelashes. It was an old trick Jareth made frequent use of. In this case, he was surprised to see a hungry look pass swiftly over the pleasant, honest face. How interesting!

Jareth turned his face up to the sun, his eyes heavy-lidded. There was a particular charm about sitting still in silence but right on cue, his ward had begun to fidget. He searched his mind for a suitable topic of conversation. He hit on one. It wasn't suitable, but it was something he'd been meaning to ask: "Tell me of Luka, Toby. It has been a long time since I last saw him. Is he still the same?"

The mortal started and looked up, clearly caught off guard with the question. "Luke?" he echoed, getting his mind back to reality, "Luke is fine, I guess. I have not seen him since... since he left a few months ago."

"I know that," Jareth said patiently, "I asked whether he is still the same as before."

"Since I don't know what before is, I can't tell you," Toby replied slowly, "But Lady Pandora says he has not changed much. Why? What was he like when you were friends?"

"An idiot."

"Jareth!"

The Goblin King laughed and rolled onto his right side, propping himself up on his elbow. His companion's muscular body was sprawling in attractive inelegance across the grass. No, the man was as far from Sarah as he was likely to get. But Jareth didn't necessarily hold that against him quite as much.

"I wish you would refrain from speaking of him like that. For all intents and purposes, he _is_ still my boyfriend."

"Oh?" Jareth asked, sounding even more interested, "What would you do if I didn't stop?"

"I would have to protect his honour, naturally," Toby replied, "Is that not the way of it in the Underground?"

"No. Not if it is the truth. He _was_ an idiot. I didn't say he remained so. Luka was young and foolish and too prone to extravagant displays of political intrigue and play-acting. He was amusing, until he began to grate on my nerves. He was also selfish."

Toby brought his knees to his chest, a defensive gesture that was not lost on the Goblin King. "I think you will find he is much improved," Toby said stiffly, "And even if you don't, what you think of him is not relevant. I happen to have feelings for him and I do not appreciate having someone I care about disparaged."

There! They were back to that stiff diplomacy again. Jareth was getting very tired of it. "I crave pardon then." He rolled onto his back once more, clearly bored. It certainly seemed as if he was not likely to get anywhere close to having a decent conversation with the young mortal, at least in the next few hours. Toby looked too insulted for that.

"I wish you wouldn't call him an idiot," Toby suddenly murmured. The anger had gone, leaving a sadly deflated tone.

Jareth cracked an eye open. The pleasant face was bewitchingly revealing. He sat up and then scooted closer, sitting down right opposite Toby and staring searching over every honest feature. "Tell me," he said again, "Why do you protect someone who has treated you so shabbily?"

Toby blinked, but the past month had at least relaxed him to the occasional close proximity of his guardian. "He did not mean to be hurtful to _me_. Certainly his trip meant a lot to him. How can I grudge him that? It's not as if this were a matter of death."

"He doesn't mind that I touch you intimately?"

Toby blushed a little but shrugged. "Since circumstance made it a necessity, I don't see that he should. Besides, what _we_ do is have sex. What Luka and I do is something a bit beyond that; more meaningful."

Jareth tried to see beyond the honesty in the blue eyes. There had to be something deeper to such laid-back logic. Surely love could not be logical? "How romantic," he remarked, barely keeping the dry irony from his voice, "Tell me how meaningful it is. I'm sure Luka has shown his love in other ways, hmmm?"

Toby looked confused.

"Does he give you presents, flowers, things of that nature? Does he wake you up in the morning to see the sunrise? Does he know what your favourite music is? What you enjoy eating? What colour most of your shirts are? Your favourite smell?"

Toby frowned in thought. "I suppose so. We never bother with things like that."

"I see." Jareth nodded to himself. "Tell me, does he at least know why you practise so hard with the sword?"

"… I don't know."

Jareth nodded again, this time decisively. "Sarah hated mornings, so she would have refused to be woken up anytime before eight. But she loved night trips to the beach. She loved the smell of jasmine and hot toast. They made her think of hotels and honeymoons. She loved ballads. Most of her clothes were white and blue. She had one formal dress, however, that was green."

The Goblin King stopped for a minute.

"I never saw her in that dress. And she genuinely liked your mother, though she did resent her marrying your father. She didn't hate you; she was upset because she couldn't see you grow up. She wanted to go to a drama academy in Los Angeles. She thought ice cream was just cold cream with a flavour. She doodled on every notebook she possessed. She brushed her teeth before she took a bath. She…"

"I am well aware," Toby said sharply, "That you spied on Sarah to the exclusion of ever other duty in the Underground. What is the point?"

Jareth let the insult pass. "The point is that I loved her. How much do you know about Luka?"

"I don't," Toby said quietly, "But love is not all about sunsets and sweet kisses. It's about trust and companionship and understanding. I have that with him. You cannot make me doubt him, Jareth, so don't try."

"No. No, love is not sunsets and kisses. I fully agree. But sunsets and kisses are a key pleasure of it. Is there no romance in your life, Toby? No… passion?"

The mortal floundered helplessly as feather-soft fingertips touched his knee. Passion? It was ludicrous considering what they got up to every night. "Yes! Yes, there is passion in my life, though it is hardly any of _your_ business." He took himself well in hand and stopped the raging in his blood. "I think we should end this conversation."

"Why? Does it bother you?"

"It angers me that you try to run down a relationship that is special to me. Have you so little tact?"

"Tact has no place in this conversation," Jareth dismissed, "The truth is the truth."

"Really? Then it might please you to know that I consider my relationship with Luka a much healthier one than the one-sided obsession you had for my half-sister."

That tore it. Something fundamentally controlled in Jareth's eyes snapped and the most powerful anger Toby had ever seen on another person's face was now confronting him.

But Jareth didn't attack him; he merely looked at him. And when he spoke, his voice showed no emotion. "Practicalities of life- paying the bills and buying groceries- those vanish in seconds. You won't remember them in twenty years. You will remember if Luka were to suddenly give you a box of your favourite chocolates and then feed them to you in the sun. You'll remember that he put out all the lights in your home one night and challenged you to a game of chase. You'll remember when he lies hard beneath you, aching for your touch because he can't bear to be without you one more minute."

"And you?" Toby had no idea what he was asking. "What do you remember that makes you an expert?"

Jareth gave him a mirthless smile, just as spiked with anger as the rest of him. "I remember Sarah murmuring my name in her sleep. She once bought a shirt because it looked somewhat like one she saw me wear. It stayed in the back of her closet but she would take it out at times to stroke and touch. I stayed with her as she died though I don't know if that counts."

Toby felt foolish. The maybes of that doomed love affair _did_ seem far brighter than the amiable realities of his own. Jareth had every right to speak as he did. "I apologize," the mortal whispered, looking genuinely concerned, "I didn't realize it cut so deep. But you have to understand that different people want different things. Luke does not change my life; he makes himself a part of it. And I like that. Besides, it is not as if Luke deliberately sets himself out to know so little about me. I never tell him things like that."

Jareth sighed and left his place, getting up to go back to sleeping in the grass. "Sandalwood," he said unexpectedly, "You like the smell of sandalwood. It reminds you of that carving in your parents' house, when you were a child. And you love melting sugar cubes on your tongue. Oh, and I believe your favourite music is anything played on the harp. I haven't yet decided if your favourite colour is green or grey."

The Goblin King shut his eyes once more.

Toby stared at him with an odd little shudder of revulsion dancing down his spine. It was revolting, revolting that the Goblin King of all people knew those things about him and that Luka hadn't really seemed to.

Toby didn't say anything else for a long time.


	30. Eavesdropping

Author's Note: I couldn't resist. This is mostly PWP, which is not something I like writing, but there you go. Besides, this is an important step for the people involved. It just doesn't relate in a direct physical sequence with anything.

Author's Note 2: Hello to the two newbies who have joined us. A big smile for the both of you. And an equally big smile for my regulars, all three of them. Hmmm... considering I had eight reviewers for the first chapter I'm surprisingly not too concerned. I wonder why?

* * *

Toby could barely contain his gasping breath any more. It was stuttering in his chest and if the dots dancing before his eyes were any indication, he was in for the orgasm of his life. 

And Jareth just kept kissing and sucking. Clever, clever mouth! Toby made a mental note to add it to that list of National Treasures that he'd found in the study. A wide sweep of the tongue had him groaning in despair as he wrenched hard on the handfuls of blond hair.

Jareth gave a hoarse chuckle and then that evil, evil mouth let go entirely as the fae slithered up his body to peck chastely at his mouth.

"No, no! No stopping," Toby protested, "Why're you stopping?"

"Want more?"

"For mercy's sake, Jareth! Are you trying to kill me?" His leg wrapped around slender hips and pulled desperately. Hard pressure, more beautiful than anything he had yet experienced. Oooo, went a tiny voice in his mind, perhaps this position had its advantages. The leg pulled again… and again… and got the pull and hump rhythm down to a veritable art in a matter of three tries.

And all through it Jareth purred contentedly as he kissed him, burning hot mouth sliding over Toby's lips, even as hot-skinned ribs pushed against slightly cooler muscular flesh. Smooth skin against roughed-haired skin. He adjusted himself on top of Toby and then pressed down for the kill.

But Toby was stronger than that. Or rather, was caught by another meandering thought. He could feel the Goblin King pressed against him, was well aware of that hard, hot bulge that pushed against him with an equally needy shove. But those damnable breeches were still in the way!

Jareth pulled back just a little and frowned.

"Get them off," Toby panted, skimming his hands over the waistband.

"Forget them." Jareth leaned back in and kissed, driving his tongue hard against the roof of Toby's mouth even as he started up a faster, slicker motion of his hips.

Toby moaned, but curled his fingers determinedly into the soft material.

Jareth suddenly slid away. Toby found Jareth's beautiful hand finished the job before he could get his bewildered mind around what was happening to him. Toby shuddered, losing his train of thought in the surrender, and the fingers kept plucking ruthlessly, prolonging the entire thing just a little. And then peace.

Breath short and harsh in the room. Stillness. Silence. The scorching feel of too-hot skin pressed to his side.

"Jareth?"

A soft kiss landed on his ear and the fingers let go with a business-like aplomb. "Stay here."

The Goblin King was up and out before the mortal could say a word, leaving confusion behind him. There should have been no reason for Jareth to react the way he had. Toby understood enough about people to know certain positions or pleasures were sacred and not to be allowed until the company merited it. But complete dislike of orgasm? _That_ was strange.

He stood up, his legs just a little shaky, and stumbled to the door of the bathroom. He knew full well what that soft groan had been.

"This is not a good idea," he hissed to himself, "I can ask him! I don't need to spy!"

But his feet stopped outside the door and he held his breath before pressing his ear to the thin wooden door. The soft groan was just a little louder, cut off abruptly as if the speaker had bitten his lip to keep himself quiet. A gentle 'mmm' floated out from nowhere, making Toby swallow very hard.

He could just picture the scene, were he to admit it to himself:

Jareth would probably be kneeling by the tub, one hand clenched on the thick porcelain lip, the other fisting himself as hard as he dared without actually causing injury. Maybe he'd do that little shimmy with his fingertips…

"Gods, yes!"

Oh, he was definitely doing that shimmy if he had betrayed himself in such a manner.

A quiet babble of fae words ranging from 'suck' to 'harder' to 'more'.

Toby choked down a laugh, picturing the look on Jareth's face so close to the final break. In all likelihood, the Goblin King was a dramatic lover, so he would be kneeling there, with one hand on himself and the other on the tub, and he would throw his head back and bare his long throat in ecstasy, his eyes screwed shut until the only thing he saw was an explosion of white light behind his eyes.

"Toby, please!"

The mortal jerked back as if stung. He'd anticipated an urgent gasp. But his name? Blushing bright red, he scurried back into bed and pretended to be asleep. For good measure, he pulled the blanket up over his face so Jareth wouldn't see the blush that wouldn't disappear.

In actual fact, it was some time before the fae entered the room again.

Toby squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself when his ears overcompensated for his refusal to open his eyes.

"Asleep?"

"Yes," he grunted.

The fae didn't take the trouble to walk around the bed. He just climbed over Toby and then settled down. His composure returned, he did not seem the type of person that masturbated over an overlarge, over-earnest mortal that was already in his bed. Why would he want to? And even assuming he did, Toby couldn't understand why he wouldn't let them touch, when he seemed to want to.

"You are not asleep."

"'M trying," Toby said.

A soft hand landed on the back of his neck and stroked soothingly.

Toby jerked upright and flipped the little switch that started up the oil lamp on the table next to the bed. "What did you do in the bathroom?" he snapped.

Jareth raised a dark eyebrow languidly. "I thought it was obvious," he commented.

"And why could you not do that here?" Toby pursued.

"I was not aware your tastes ran to voyeurism," the Goblin King commented.

"What? No! You know what I mean," Toby growled, ruffling his own hair in annoyance, "I was prepared to do it for you. Why move away?"

"I didn't know you were so willing," Jareth allowed, "I was sparing you the guilt."

"Guilt?"

"Luka," Jareth pointed out, "Touching someone else?"

"Oh." Blue eyes blinked in cooling confusion. "Guilt."

"Guilt," Jareth echoed firmly, "I am not wasting time patting your shoulder while you agonize at the end of the year."

Toby looked down at the sheets. With all his sitting up and irritation, he'd pushed the covers down off the both of them. And Jareth was still wearing those frustrating breeches. And this time they weren't even wet.

Unbidden, the remembrance of Jareth's hard, slender body wet from the swim taken four days ago came to mind, reminding him of how the cloth was liable to reveal more than conceal when it got soaked. He gulped, hearing that needy gasp once more in his ears. Looking up, he caught the interested gaze of a very curious Goblin King.

"I'm not in a relationship," Toby said, "No Luke. No guilt."

"I see." Jareth held still and watched him for just a shade longer than was necessary. After which he sighed and rolled over onto his back, giving a happy little wriggle of his hips as he lifted his legs to get the constricting trousers off. "Thank you! I was starting to think I should ask for nightshirts to be made!"

Toby raised an eyebrow at the open grin as Jareth stuck his long legs up in the air and then coiled them to get the trousers over his ankles and feet. A long, relieved huff slipped out the white throat as the breeches went sailing into the corner.

Toby was trying- very hard, in fact- not to stare. And failing miserably.

"Like what you see?"

Uh-oh. That throaty chuckle that ended on a purr.

The Goblin King nestled closer and smirked sweetly into his ward's face. "Hmmm… I was wondering how long it would take. Congratulations. Another life's lesson completed."

"An- another?"

"Mmhmm." Sharp teeth nibbled on his lower lip.

Whatever it was would be a singularly good piece of advice, Toby fervently agreed, especially if it meant he could pin those narrow hips to the bed and taste the forbidden.


	31. It Ain't Easy

Author's Note: I was quite surprised at the response to my little sex scene in the previous chapter. Naughty people! So happy to see Jareth take off those 'damnable breeches'? Glad you lot liked it. Unfortunately, as my regulars from the 'Bond of...' series know, there can be no PWP without some serious drama and/or twist occuring. Wonder what it will be this time?

* * *

"You seem happy this morning," the Lady Pandora remarked, looking at her son as he actually decided to eat. Oh, glory of glories! 

Jareth grinned at her and sat down, stretching his long legs out under the table and slouching comfortably back in his seat. He picked up the jug of milk and added some to the peculiar mixture of fruit and mixed nuts. Apparently one of the cooks had taken the idea of a 'cereal' from one of his recent Aboveground acquisitions and decided to experiment. Jarethquite likedtrying new things.

"What is that?" Pandora asked, staring at the bowl in front of him.

"This? Not a clue." Jareth cheerfully picked up a spoon and began to eat, not even noticing the slightly acrid taste of one of the more tangy fruits combining badly with the sweet milk. The sun glowed in at the windows and picked out the delicate blue paint on the china dishes. Pure, snowy white dishes filled with food either piping hot or pleasantly cool.

Jareth was very happy with the world.

His mother noticed. She smiled slightly at the ease with which her son moved, aware of the dark bruise very visible just below his collarbone. A bruise, she decided, that looked as if someone had bitten him hard. She barely restrained a giggle when he began to hum a new song.

Toby wandered in some minutes later, looking quite pleased with himself. He wished his adopted mother a good morning, picked up a peach and sat down at the table.

"Are you not hungry?" Pandora demanded, lips twitching.

Toby shook his head and studiously began to eat the peach. "Not really," he murmured.

"Do you feel ill?" She didn't think Toby was, but illness was still difficult for the mortal, being… well, mortal.

Toby grinned and shook his head again. "Not at all. Just not hungry."

Pandora nodded and looked down at her own plate. But she looked up fast enough to catch Jareth's half-smile at the mortal- returned she might add- before the two looked innocently at her. Jareth even went so far as to raise an enquiring eyebrow in that perpetual habit he had.

Pandora sighed and smiled at the both of them. "I take it you both had a very good night," she remarked.

Toby blushed a little but Jareth just laughed. "A very eventful night," the Goblin King agreed.

"Well, I suppose you could have exchanged eating habits while you were exchanging… other things."

"My Lady, were you doing anything this morning," Toby broke in desperately, trying not to laugh nervously. It was really too embarrassing to discuss his sex life with the lady that was essentially his mother. And the mother of his partner. Damn! His good mood faltered and he looked uncertainly at Jareth.

Jareth saw it and frowned slightly in concern. What had happened now? The night before had been very entertaining. The morning had been bright and appealing. He had thought they were passed the worst of the situation now that Toby was prepared to really meet him halfway. Yet there was his ward looking just as distant as before.

The Goblin King pushed his bowl away, appetite forgotten as he leaned forward. "Is there something wrong, Toby?"

He probably didn't even realize that his voice had dropped to a low husky whisper, too intimate. Toby drew back and darted a look at the other person in their midst. She was looking at him as well, a surprised look on her face. "Nothing," he replied coolly, "I _am_ a little hungry, I believe."

He stood up and went to serve himself something. Jareth's frown deepened and he felt annoyed. It had been a beautiful day and Toby had had to ruin it. Again. He looked to his mother and she shrugged apologetically, signing that she had no idea.

Jareth said nothing until the mortal came back to the table and then he reached out and placed a soothing hand on Toby's. "What is the matter?" he asked again.

"I'm a little tired," Toby evaded, offering a cool smile.

"How flattering for me. Be honest."

"I am very honest with you."

"No.I am not stupid and you are lying. You can tell me now, or you can let it fester. But if this was about last night, then you might as well tell me now before you interrupt my night with a long, rather pointlessly emotional talk." Jareth's voice was growing harder with each syllable, and by the time he had finished his hand had slipped away and was pressed far too relentlessly against the wood of the table.

Toby knew better than to keep provoking him. But this was a private matter and he did not want the Lady Pandora involved. He could handle Jareth's tantrums and his long rages. But he could not handle any one else's pitying looks. And he would not. So he took his hand away and began to eat steadily.

Pandora cleared her throat and glared at Jareth, telling him wordlessly that he was pushing too hard.

The Goblin King took her advice and stormed out, not stopping to apologize to his sister as he pushed passed her on the stairs. Indeed, when she uttered a small sound of protest, he snarled at her and continued on his way.

Jervohl made it to the breakfast room just as Toby was coming out. The mortal was tight-lipped and pale. He held the door open and nodded at her 'good morning' but said nothing to her.

Jervohl blinked at her mother as she sat down. "Were they arguing again?"

"Worse."

"Never tell me it almost escalated into a physical fight?" Jervohl sipped at her glass and let her worry show.

"No. But if I did not know better, I would think it a lover's tiff."

Jervohl's eyes dropped instantly, her mind caught up enough by that indirect reference to even notice that the names included in such a statement were not ones she would ever have thought were possible.

Pandora sighed and put her head in her hands for a minute. She was old, dammit! She shouldn't, at her age, still have to play mother to two children. Unfortunately, would she ever stop playing mother to someone? And since she had no grandchildren to occupy her attention, she would have to content herself with her children. "Jervohl?"

"Hmmm?"

"Jervohl, when will you stop this nonsense?" The older lady smoothed a hand over the younger one lying limply on the table. "Why pretend?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mother."

"Dear, if you love someone, tell them."

Pandora was tired of always saying this. Her stupid family, she mused, they were the only ones who refused to say anything when they fell head over heels. Jareth had decided to play some convoluted game in which he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss his darling senseless or get her as far from him as was humanly possible. Jervohl had already made the mistake of being so distant with her former fiancé that she had lost him to her own brother, simply because Crase thought she had no real interest in him. And Dieter… well, Dieter would never have to torture himself with the sight of the woman he loved married to someone else, _now_, would he?

"Mother, it is not as simple as all that."

"Why not? Gildred is a nice boy."

"Mother! He is not a boy! He is only five years younger than Jareth."

"Yes, but that says nothing. Your brother's soul is about four centuries old. Sometimes I wonder if he is not as old as _I_ am mentally."

"Not possible. He is too juvenile."

The two smiled at each other, albeit one of the smiles was weak and accompanied with slightly wet eyes.

Pandora tugged her daughter's hand until Jervohl reluctantly came around to her side of the table and sat down awkwardly on the floor beside her chair. She laid her head in her mother's lap and let the blue-veined hands stroke over her hair with a soothing touch.

"What happened, Jervohl?"

Wet green eyes closed. "He gave someone else the job, Mother. I worked so hard to prove that I was worthy. I did everything I could to show my loyalty. And then he selected Madigh."

"Did you tell him?"

"I confronted him that night and screamed at him for a good few minutes," Jervohl replied ruefully, "I'm so embarrassed! After so long of being so controlled, of trying to be subtle, suddenly it did not matter that I was behaving like a child of eight again."

"What did he say?" Pandora had expected this, but it still worried her.

"Nothing. I didn't give him the chance. I told him that my time was up and that I was leaving. I left before he could say anything more. I didn't even wait for an escort. I move better when I travel alone."

"You have had to learn a number of hard lessons, it seems."

"Yes. But after a while, I enjoyed them. I was not expected to sit at home and have children. Even the females learn how to shoot a bow in the Outlawed Lands, Mother. And I know it sounds like treason, for me to- to feel this, but if you had ever lived there you would see that they are not as terrible as people say. They are not uncivilized, or racist, or savage, and they do not practise secret rituals to dark spirits."

Pandora giggled- she could not help it- her daughter sounded so indignant. "Of course, not, my dear. No one really believes that."

"I could not tell Jareth. After all the times Gildred has tried to take the Kingdom or have him deposed, I didn't think he would appreciate it."

"I know. And he might be upset at first, but you know your brother. He will bluster and growl his way through the first week or so, and then he will see reason."

"This is Jareth. Reason has no chance."

"Come, now, Jervohl. He is not that bad."

"I repeat- this is Jareth."

"True. He can be a blockhead. Suffice it to say, I will beat it into his head that he is not to be nasty about it."

Jervohl gave her a weak laugh and nodded, lifting her head. "I feel such a fool. In love with the enemy and bursting into tears about it! Is there anything more ridiculous?"

"Yes," Pandora said dryly, "The sight of the aloof Goblin King smiling softly at the man he has just spent a very pleasurable night with over breakfast, even though his mother is sitting two chairs away."

Jervohl shuddered. "Poor Toby. I do not know how he puts up with him."

"Toby smiled back."

"They deserve each other."

"Yes, but there is trouble is paradise. Toby suddenly seemed to get some maggot into his head and killed the mood quite remarkably quick. I will have to have a talk with that man. He is too repressed for his own good. I have always said so, but you think he listens to me? Oh, no! What can an old lady such as myself know?" She sounded thoroughly disgruntled.

"Mother, do you not think you should stay out of this?"

"If I did, my dear, I would never have agreed to raise Toby at all. Especially since I suspected that he was Jareth's offspring at the time."

Jervohl wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That is morally wrong. Even worse than the many jokes about Jareth bedding both brother and sister."

Pandora looked upset. She knew the stories, but this one was new. And she didn't like it. No matter what she thought of her own son, the stories never failed to upset her. "He never would have," she declared hotly, "Not Sarah. Not as she was then. No one who knew him would ever have suspected the person he was then to harm the air around her let alone a hair on her head."

Jervohl looked puzzled.

"He was changed, Jervohl. You should have seen him. It was not that he was less selfish, it was that he extended that selfishness to include another living being. His face would soften when he watched her in his crystals. He did things that he thought she might like, only because he wanted her approval. No one will tell you."

"It sounds as if he really loved her. But how was it even possible? He barely knew her. And she disliked him."

"She disliked what she thought he was, and hated herself for loving him anyway." Pandora stood up. "Wretched girl ruined him. I don't wish her dead, but if she had to die she should never have asked him to watch."

Jervohl shuddered again, this time in sympathy. She knew all the times that she had felt physically ill knowing Gildred was in danger, or knowing that he was hurt. She knew how terrible it had been to have no way to make him feel better through any of the day-to-day problems that he faced, no matter how small they were. "If I had ever had to see Gildred die… if I ever live to hear of his death, I would die too."

"No." Pandora knew about death. "You will live. And you will be sad. But then something will happen to take that hate away and you will see sense again."

"You sound like Gildred- "Nothing will ever disturb the continuation of life". One would imagine he was a machine!"

Pandora laughed and released her daughter, lifting up the left hand to adjust the ribbon weaving around the fingers. "Jervohl, is there any truth to the rumours? That Gildred is of the Sky spirits?"

"He believes it. I am not so sure. His skills are those of practise and intelligence. It may be possible that he has aerial blood in him, but I doubt it. He takes such pride in it that I never thought to discuss it."

"Come, then. It seems you have twenty years of suppressed passion to tell me of. Unless there are things a mother should not be told?" Blue eyes directed a look of fierce sternness at green.

Jervohl blushed a little but shook her head. "I wish," she remarked fervently, "But no. We're never close enough. That promotion- if he had had any regard for me he would have given it to me. He knew how much I wanted it. But no! Madigh had to get it. Bah! Of all the useless fools!"

"That bad?"

"He almost tortured a child to make him reveal the whereabouts of his father," Jervohl spat. "Do not talk to me of bad."

"He sounds unpleasant."

The younger fae stayed silent as they made their way from the room, going out to the garden. She did not even look surprised when Toby melted out of the shadows with an apologetic smile and began a conversation with her mother. Her mind was caught with the unpleasantness of many of those she had met. And how, in the end, it had been balanced by the shocking justice of just one person.

Justice.

She had never thought she would ever use that word to Gildred, but he was just. Ruthlessly, terribly just. In his land of chaos, he had to create order. The opposite of the Underground in so many ways. In more ways than people realized, at least. And those in the Outlaw Lands were capable of so much less sympathy than those in the Underground, so much less understanding. Because if one has been chased and exiled from one's own country, one is bound to grow bitter and morose.

Jervohl could not help wondering if Gildred were roaming his lands again, personally checking every village and town in disguise, with none but his lieutenants to protect him. She wished she were there to help him. To protect him. To see him smile when he saw all was well. She wished it out loud, under her breath, looking irritably out at the Goblin City.

It was lucky, in that way, that she lived in the Wishing Lands, and had the personal favour of the Goblin King himself. Jareth was most conveniently in the mood to listen to her wish, and assist her in achieving it. It would, as he exalted, get her out of his hair.


	32. Proof

Author's Note: Much shorter chapter. Plus, it's a little less useful in terms of character and sketch. I don't know; something doesn't work in this chapter but I can't think what.

* * *

"Come in, Gibil." 

The goblin crept in and hovered nervously in the doorway.

"Get in here!"

He scurried in and bobbed down at the Goblin King's feet. Whatever it was that Jareth wanted, Gibil wasn't sure that he could provide it. Common sense told him to stay away from someone that could cause a lot of physical harm. If not throw him into the Bog.

Jareth glared at him for no other reason than that he did not like goblins in general and then turned away to fidget with something on his desk.

Gibil gibbered internally and cast a fascinated eye over his employer. The Goblin King seemed to be at his most magnificent at the moment, wearing a white shirt with intricate black beadwork at the neck and cuffs. Grey breeches and the usual black boots. Nothing too different, but from experience Gibil read those clothes to mean that Jareth was not only in a foul mood, but had deceived himself into believing he was perfectly in control of his temper. This was not- where goblins were concerned- always the case.

"I hear you suffered a tragic loss recently," Jareth snapped out unexpectedly.

Gibil squeaked and quivered. "Yes, Sire."

Blue-hazel eyes raked up and down over him. "My sympathies." He didn't sound very sympathetic. "When is the funeral?"

"Tomorrow."

Jareth ruminated over it in his mind and then came to a quick decision. "Take the day off," he decided, "Leave the death notices to me. I will get them seen to."

"Th- thank you, Sire."

Jareth ignored him for a moment, and then, when it looked as if Gibil wasn't moving, glared at him again. "Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation to dinner?"

Gibil scampered away, bowing and moving at the same time so that he tumbled backwards out the door.

Jareth sighed and shook his head. He didn't like goblins. But Gibil was good at his job, and no matter how annoying, the Castle would fall apart without people like Gibil. The Goblin King rifled through his desk to find paper. He spent the next ten minutes writing out the details of the death. He was well versed in it. He had done this before, since most of his servants were not the kind to use correct grammar in their speech let alone write legibly. Deaths, births, marriage contracts and the like were old hat by this time.

He was expecting a knock, so he yelled to the person to enter without even lifting his head. "Yava?"

"Yes, Sire. You wanted me?"

"Have the gardeners send flowers to Jinni's funeral tomorrow. She was a good worker. Is Gonzo in the Castle?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Get him here."

Yava nodded, used to such orders. They were a fairly regular occurrence when running a household as big as the Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. Jareth was callous, but not unthinking. And the family would appreciate a small cash donation, seeing as it was so large. "Yes, Sire."

The Goblin King leaned back and took a deep breath, flexing his shoulders to ease the kinks. He took a quick feel around the Castle and noticed nothing amiss. Except for a sense of confusion in his bedroom. "On second thoughts, have Gonzo do it himself. He knows what to do."

He got up and swaggered off past her, tired of working when his mind was so clearly on other things- like Sarah; like how much her brother irritated him; like how he should have expected something to go wrong after it had begun to grow so right.

Up the stairs and down the corridor, past the crack in the wall shaped like a cloud and then down a side passage. Up another short flight of stairs and down his private wing. The door to the library was open, but no large blond frame was stooped in the chair at the desk. The two books were done, the former ones burnt to ash and thrown out to the winds.

No, Toby was in the suite next door.

Jareth stormed through, stopped to slam the door shut behind him and then made his silently wrathful way to the bedroom.

Toby was asleep.

The fae looked at him. The fae fumed in silence. And then the fae sat down in the chair by the window and brooded by himself.

It was only around noon that Tobywoke up. And when he did, he only wished he were still asleep. Jareth watched him warily from his seat, not saying a word until the mortal sat up with a grimace and raked a hand through his hair.

"I have to get my hair cut," Toby muttered, attempting to find a neutral topic.

"I'll have a goblin sent to you this evening," Jareth murmured, voice as blank as his face.

Only the wind moved in the room, ruffling the sheets and hair, sending long blond strands whipping unevenly across a sharp-featured face. Dark, sculpted wood and thick woven rugs on the floor. An elaborately carved lamp on either side of the bed. A delicate mural along one wall and a polished ivory box standing innocuously on the little table in one corner.

Toby was not in the mood to pay attention to such a scene. It was too peaceful, to easy to fall into. Nothing was this easy. Nothing _could_ be this easy.

Jareth lifted a hand and unbuttoned his shirt. Talking would be the best way to resolve this, but talking was not Jareth's strong suits. Neither, he suspected, would Toby let him finish. So he silently slipped off the shirt and hung it over the back of his chair. Never looking away from that deepening blue gaze.

Toby stayed very still and just hoped the dream would go away.

It didn't. The boots came off next. And that medallion was glittering on a pale, bare chest.

"What are you doing?"

"If you want me to stop, you ask," Jareth said quietly, "If you want me to continue, just shut up and hold still."

He crawled onto the bed, still making eye contact.

Toby leaned away.

So Jareth shrugged philosophically and kissed his neck instead of his mouth. Tiny, biting kisses on salty skin. Down, down, over a shoulder and around a nipple. Using only his tongue for the tensed muscles on Toby's stomach and abdomen.

Toby still couldn't find his breathe. The world hadn't changed in any particular way that he knew of. But Jareth's mouth burned. All the fae got like that when they were aroused. It was a body thing. Luka had burned, too. Tiny puffs of warm breath on his hip made him shiver involuntarily.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Yes."

Jareth sat back on his heels with no look or word to show any emotion out of the ordinary.

"You stopped?"

"Yes."

Toby noticed there was a particularglint to the Goblin King's hair when the sun shone through it. It distracted him.

"Did you expect me to rape you? Force you?" Jareth snorted mockingly. "Thank you, but I have no need to chase anyone unwilling to bed with me."

Toby flushed and glared at him.

"_But_… I ask for your permission to let me continue with what I had begun."

Guilt. Sarah's lover and Sarah's Goblin King. Hands that offered to touch him- _had_ touched him- had been hands that had made love to her. Or so rumour said. Toby wasn't comfortable with that. It made him feel somewhat lacking in some way, or not quite wanted.

"I am hardly offering you my hand in my marriage," Jareth snapped, "Come, come! This is not a difficult decision!"

"It is to me."

"No. It is either 'yes' or 'no'. Not possibly. Not maybe. Just a straight answer. Do you want to continue what we have started. Or do you want to stop."

Toby sat back and stared defiantly at the Goblin King. "What if I say no?"

"You may have another room. But you will be the poorer for it."

"You have a high opinion of yourself."

A flashing smirk. "There are things I can only teach you by touch. Trust is one of them. You can either trust me to know your limits, or you can see me tomorrow morning when I _will_ insist that you practise your meditation."

"What? _Again_?"

"Yes, again. And again. And again. Until you get it right."

"And I'm supposed to trust you to show me this- whatever it may be?"

Jareth slowly slid his breeches off. "Yes."

What else exactly was Toby supposed to do? Say no? He didn't think so.


	33. Words

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, but this chapter has less dialogue and more narration. That, and I had a bad case of 'flue for a week so I was laid up at home with tissues and soap, croaking wretchedly at the TV and unable to sleep. Hope this makes up for the wait.

* * *

After such a disturbingly surreal occurrence, very little really _was_ said.

Toby said nothing, silently blaming every other factor except himself for having behaved in such a reprehensible fashion. And since Jareth did not seem in any way inclined to repeat the conversation, Toby stood on his pride and didn't bring it up either.

Jareth said nothing because he felt guilty, blamed everyone else, and concluded after one very uncomfortable morning that the world was out to ruin him. If he had any goodwill left to spare, it was wasted on self-pity and platitudes.

And so they both wallowed. And they both steeped.

Of course, there were other things said, things not directly involved with that surreal occurrence. Toby calmly told the Lady Pandora that things were progressing as well as could be expecting between himself and the Goblin King. Jareth told her that everything was going to hell in a handbasket. Jervohl spent the better part of her dawns defending herself from surprisingly seething attacks from her own bodyguard in what was meant to be friendly sparring. She spent the better part of her evenings in a cluttered study answering a litany of searching questions about a period of her life she preferred to forget.

Words were not confined to just the immediate surroundings, either. They spread, and winged their ways in select directions over the warm, wet Underground lands. Elban was growing very confused by the growing number of terse missives sent to him every day. Jareth simply never wrote that many times! In the case of his subject matter, he simply never wrote so little! Beran was beginning to growl again, too, which always made the forest sprite want to break furniture. Truly, his lover would be jealous of a frog if it hopped into his hand one too many times. And then Beran _would_ say that Elban was 'encouraging' it!

Merilin too was receiving his own perplexing series of letters. In his case, they arrived every three days, what with his distance from the Goblin City. But they were no less annoying. The other members of the elvish political community were growing suspicious of the Goblin King's constant correspondence with him on this unknown matter. His father bluntly asked if the elves had anything to be worried about. Merilin laughed it away and said it concerned certain policies. He would not, naturally, say that Jareth was demanding to receive more news on the situation with Gildred's lieutenant; a sorry situation indeed because Merilin could not report more than everything he already knew, which he had already done… in triplicate.

Rooms were changed when Toby pleasantly asked to be allowed to take a room nearer to Jervohl so he could better fulfil his duty. The Lady Pandora had expected Jareth to say 'no', succinctly and with full bloody-mindedness. Jareth had, astonishingly, dismissed every concern by simply summoning Yava and ordering it done by the end of the evening. He himself moved back to his accustomed simple bedroom with no backward sighs.

Jareth insisted that Toby continue with the exercise he had initiated for at least an hour every morning. Jervohl, used to talking with Toby and reading the fine tension in his face and shoulders, fully expected the man to argue and refuse. Instead, every morning when he had finished practising with her, he would excuse himself for exactly an hour to sit in the spot that Jareth had selected and attempt blindly to do what Jareth still would not explain. At the end of an hour, he would get up, sling his old brown jacket back on and go up to his room to bathe and change, untouched by whatever mystery the meditation was supposed to unlock.

Things were not, therefore, as good as they could have been. And there were many times during the days when the tension would make its screeching presence felt. A snide word; a measured glance; a curl of the lip; a bland smile; a subtle exclusion from conversation; a silent refusal to interact- people tiptoed around in circles not really saying anything and holding their breathes, fervently trying to keep the peace in a Castle that loomed darkly around them like an resonating mausoleum.

Everyone was worried. Pandora worried for her children. Jervohl worried for herself and for the uncertainty with Madigh's intentions. Elban worried for the volatility of his relationship. Merilin worried for the precariousness of the balancing act he was in. Everyone worried.

But then words, as any Underground infant could have said, were much deadlier yet. One word could shatter glass thicker than a fist; two could ruin a kingdom. Worse, an exchange of words lasting roughly four and a half minutes in length could serve to ruin whatever shaky truce had originally built up between the Goblin King and his ward. Had that Underground infant, obviously possessed of a great and powerful wisdom, told anyone of this, it is still doubtful that the truce could have been saved.

For both Jareth and Toby were, as Pandora frequently pointed out to Eloise, stubborn. And along with their stubbornness, they were proud. And along with that pride, they were dominant personalities. Neither, she always mourned, knew anything at all about real compromise. Jareth would as soon eat his own powerstone as compromise with _anyone_. And Toby would rather leave the Underground entirely before he gave in to Jareth. As Eloise had remarked, "Wild cats, the both of them, my Lady. How will we do your hair today?"

Toby's stubbornness was a strange thing, however, and the little goblin woman said so to her mistress. She had looked after the Lady Pandora for almost eight years, since the one and only time His Majesty had attempted to make contact with his ward and gone to visit the ancestral home he never bothered with. One look at how much support the mortal provided and Jareth had petitioned Yava to find someone suitable for his mother. But as far as Eloise could tell, Toby had had a lot of power on that estate since his fourteenth year. He had grown up around the servants. They knew and trusted him; liked him too, and no wonder, for he didn't give himself airs and graces no matter how much bigger he had grown. The man, Eloise knew, could have asked for almost anything and no goblin would have questioned it. And that habit of having his orders obeyed gave him a very bad habit of _expecting_ his orders to be obeyed- a deadly business when interacting with the Goblin King. Stubbornness and Pride…

Toby happened, as it were, to go to the library one afternoon to get a jacket he had left there. Pressed against the wall across from the door was a figure he knew very well and one he didn't. They were still dressed, but from the look of things such a state would not be lasting long.

The gentlemanly thing would have been to excuse himself and leave Jareth with his latest paramour. Even better, Toby should have quietly shut the door and neither would have even noticed.

Three things stopped him:

One. Toby was not a possessive man, but he didn't take any pleasure in seeing someone he had once been intimate with being intimate with someone else. Like most men, it was a blow to his ego. And while he knew rationally that Jareth was, in essence, promiscuous, seeing it flaunted so casually was distasteful and irksome.

Two. Toby could not quite stop himself from being mulish and contrary. He didn't really care if Jareth felt up an elf girl in the fae's own library. But Jareth had been avoiding him. They had been circling each other warily all month since the last time they had shared an embrace. Now those mutual boundaries were violated by his interruption of this private meeting, waking up a few normally dormant impulses. Toby had been spoiling for a fight for a long time.

Three and by far the most important. Toby had eaten himself away with guilt, his nerves rubbed raw by the thought that he was somehow taking away from his sister, dead as she was. Jareth was Sarah's property in every way that mattered; Toby had had no right to seek to enjoy any physical union with him. But by that same token, neither could he idly watch anyone else take that place without a furious burst of betrayal on Sarah's behalf. And with Ezreeka! A betrayal in the worst way! She was slender. She was small. She was dark-haired. Moreover, she was female. Toby couldn't see it happen, irrational though that was.

So he entered with a deliberately loud thud of his heels on the cool, tiled floor and banged the door shut behind his back for good measure. Ezreeka jumped, terrified eyes widening over Jareth's shoulder as she pushed the fae away and tugged her clothes into place. Jareth only peered over his shoulder and muttered something under his breath too low to be heard by the intruder. But he let the elf go and leaned back against the wall, eyebrow raised and arms folded.

One thing was said and then another. Very quietly; very civilly. An equally short answer was made, with less civility and more impatience. A gloved hand rose in a dismissive gesture and waved another statement away, the mocking smirk more than speaking where sharper words would not.

A lot more things were said. The voices rose, as did tempers. Blue eyes hardened with unalloyed loathing and mismatched ones replied with disgust. The gloved hand turned to grasp tightly at the pendant, the thin edges cutting into the thin leather.

Ezreeka fled when the crest of anger threatened to engulf even her. She was sensible enough to push away the hurt from those callous remarks, to know that it wasn't really herself that Mr. Williams had meant to attack. He had always been so courteous and gentle with her in the past, apart from one instance and that had been partly her fault. So she resolved not to let herself take the insults seriously and concentrated on helping. They had lost their minds, the both of them, and there would be bloodshed if someone were not careful! And she needed to find someone else who could stop them fighting before Toby made the Goblin King angry enough to attack him.

She was right. The relationship had been uneasy at best, built on assumptions, expectations and a vague notion of shared time. But time could be spent apart as well as together, and the assumptions and expectations had not been met. The relationship, such as it was, was breaking under the strain. Its strange dynamics played out to the full when Jareth taunted the mortal about jealousy and possessiveness, throwing his former boyfriend up with a malicious flourish:

"Jealous, are we? Well, you did have your chance and you said no. Change your mind? Second chances are rare. I never let just _anyone_ near me. Not like your darling Luka."

Toby hit him. He was fully conscious, fully cognizant and fully aware of his own actions. He did not regret it when it was over. Luckily, he also thought far enough ahead that he pulled his punches and the shock hurt worse than the blow:

"Take your second chances and warm your lonely, empty bed with them. _I_ at least have a lover I call my own; you have no one. And those meaningless nights with another body? It's just the mindless rutting of a whore who doesn't even know better."

Toby was not, needless to say, to know what Jareth would hear in those words. He was not to know a female voice echoed in his. Or that the spit of loathing that accompanied them was a repeat of an older and infinitely more damaging argument. But he did feel the retaliation in a blaring flash of agonizingly bright light that blinded him and made him twist away. He stumbled, knees weakened with the searing burn across his retinas and he fell, jarring his wrist awkwardly.

A moment later, Jareth was gone. Four minutes later, Hessie knocked cautiously at the door and entered at Toby's quiet call. She looked around, expecting to see one or the other stretched out and bleeding profusely from the way Ezreeka had trembled and stuttered. But the room was quiet, a cool breeze blowing briskly through the windows and fanning the mortal's flushed face. No furniture had been damaged; no books had been torn. The floor was spotless and everything seemed to be in its place, including the reading lamp that had been Jareth's weapon of choice in a previous temper tantrum. Something seemed wrong.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Williams?" she asked softly.

He didn't seem to have heard her for a moment, so intently was he staring outside. And then he tipped his face somewhat towards her and beckoned her to enter with a tired hand.

"I need your help, Hessie. And then I shall require the services of a very discreet healer."

There were drying tears on his cheek and he seemed to be cradling his left wrist, but that was not what worried her. He had turned towards her, yes, but in order to favour his hearing not his vision. He was not looking at her, even though he spoke with his usual humility.

Hessie went to him and laid a hand on his arm, noting the heat of his skin through the thin shirt. Mortals were not meant to be that hot. And he was flushed. What had happened? Since he didn't seem inclined to speak, she hesitantly put a hand up before his eyes. He didn't flinch; he didn't blink; he gave no sign of even seeing it.

"Merciful love," she breathed, "What happened?"

"Explosion," Toby said softly, "I upset His Majesty very badly. There was a bright light. I think it damaged my eyes."

"Tsk," she scolded, bending down to examine them. They were reddened, certainly, and watering profusely even then. The pupils were bare pinpricks in the blue iris and that, as Hessie stressed, was not good. "You might be right, Mr. Williams. Up, then. Put your arm on my shoulder and let me steer. One step at a time. That's right, dear. Are you alright?"

Toby made a face. "I keep trying to _see_," he groaned, closing his eyes tight before blinking them rapidly, "What the devil is going on?"

She steeled herself. "We'll go very slow, Mr. Williams. Your sight might return after a short rest in a dark room. We'll see. Gibil can get a healer this evening just to check on you, and I'll assign him to your room to get you anything you need."

"Thank you, Hessie. If you have work, I can follow a goblin." Toby felt bad taking the woman away from her duties. She was assigned to look after Jervohl and care for her, a full-time job as he could guess.

Jervohl! He had completely forgotten about her! What sort of bodyguard would he be when blinded? The little voice in his head took petty delight in the fact that Jareth would have to release him from that duty now. He couldn't see. It was Jareth's fault and this little mishap would inconvenience the Goblin King himself.

Toby swallowed on that bitter, shallow, petty smirk in his throat and wanted it gone. Resolutely, he concentrated on following his guide in as straight a line as he could manage, listening intently for the sound of her footsteps to tell him whether there were rises or dips in the floor ahead.


	34. Facts

Author's Note: Yeah, 'flue is pretty ghastly. But I'm over it except for a slight cough. The good news is that I have two short chapters for you that should take care of the updates this week. Thanks for all the quick reviews. They made me feel so much better.

* * *

"Can you see anything at all?" Pandora asked, moving the candle carefully before his eyes. 

Toby was concentrating fiercely, his jaw tensed against the panic that it would be so easy to give in to. But eventually he sighed and shook his head. "Nothing. No light, no shapes, no colours. Just a thick wall of black."

The lady put the candle back down on the bedside table and looked across to Hessie. The woman was grave, hands clasped lightly over her apron, greying hair tied back under a cheerful red scarf. "It seems that your vision is affected, dear. Probably only temporary but I think we should send for a healer just to be safe."

Just to be safe. Toby knew what 'just to be safe' meant. It meant that the Lady Pandora didn't want to worry him and desperately didn't know what to do. Damn Jareth and his savage temper! Damn him and his powers! Wasn't he supposed to use them for the good of his people, not to blind innocent men? Toby was very afraid and trying hard not to be.

"Really, I cannot imagine what Jareth was thinking of. Using lightening on Jervohl and starlight on you- anyone would think he was mad."

Toby stayed very quiet, shifting uncomfortably on his bed and wishing he knew where to avert his face because he was certain he would be blushing sometime soon. Jareth had acted terribly, true, but Toby _was_ an honest man and in all honesty he had provoked him. He had said some terrible things to _merit_ retaliation and he had hit him as well. It was just unfortunate that Jareth's powers were greater than any other in the land. Toby should have been more controlled himself.

A lapse of rationale that he was now regretting.

"Will I regain my sight?" he asked instead, putting up a hand as he blinked. If he hadn't felt the soft brush of his lashes against his fingertips, he would have thought his eyelids were squeezed shut for all that it helped. Opened or closed, he saw the same thing now.

"Oh, yes," Pandora declared robustly, "It was just the shock, no doubt. Drink this and it will help you sleep for tonight. A good rest will make all the difference in the world."

All the same, the cheerful words did not help the man get his fingers around the glass without knocking half the medicated mixture to the sheets. And once he had it in his hand, it was still no easy matter to judge the distance between it and his mouth. It was humiliating. But he drank as much of it as reached his mouth and he gave the glass back and then lay down, still blinking rapidly when his eyes decided they wanted to _see_ again, past that thick dark wall of nothing.

Pandora murmured a few more inane words of cheer and left him alone, walking softly out of the room with a worried look on her face and a finger on her lips. Hessie obeyed her command of silence and followed her out, shutting the door behind herself when she was outside.

They made their way silently to the dining room where Jervohl was waiting for them, eagerly impatient for news. "Well?" the younger fae demanded, "What happened? Is it very bad?"

"He cannot see a thing," Pandora sighed, sinking into a chair, "We gave him jegg powder to make him sleep. Hopefully he just needs to rest them."

Hessie took a seat respectfully in one corner, nodding to Eloise as the latter busily mended a glove. Soft brown eyes glanced up with an enquiry and the woman shook her head almost imperceptibly. 'Wait' the message said, 'Later'. Eloise settled herself in to wait.

"But how in the world did such a thing happen?" Jervohl demanded, "No healthy young male suddenly loses his eyesight like that. Unless… is this something to do with mortals? A disease?"

Both females turned to look at Hessie, who sat up straighter and shook her head. "Not that I know of, Ms. Jervohl."

Pandora nodded and turned back. She offered just one word by way of explanation- "Jareth".

"What did he do this time?"

"It seems they finally had that argument that's been threatening all month. In the heat of the moment Jareth seems to have flashed starlight at him. Toby said he couldn't open his eyes for a full minute after that and when he could, he was blind."

Jervohl nodded, elegantly scratching the skin on her neck irritated by the stiff lack collar. It sounded perplexing but not unlike something Gildred had once done. Only, of course, Gildred had acted deliberately. "Were there any physical effects?" she demanded, turning professional.

Her mother seemed surprised but answered as fully as she could. "His eyes are reddened and slightly swollen. They keep watering. His pupils are extremely small. Too small. And I think he is running a low fever."

"Hmmm…" That itch on her neck was getting worse. "It sounds reasonably like Neva's symptoms."

"Neva?"

"Centaur. Neva's village was in alliance with another centaur village. Neva and three of his young friends looted one of the houses and under cover of the alliance framed an innocent band of nomads for the theft. Gildred punished him by flashing starlight in his eyes. It was meant to be poetic justice of some kind."

"The symptoms were the same?"

"Much the same, yes. I had charge of the prison wards, then, so I saw first hand the state this one was in. His eyes did not water, but his pupils were very tiny. The healer said the light had been so much that they had shrunk and the sudden attack had shocked the nerves and damaged them so they couldn't return to normal."

"Did he heal? What happened?" Pandora was not looking forward to telling Toby that after all of her reassurances, he would be blind for the rest of his life. If there was just a chance that he could regain any of his sight at all…

"Oh, he healed," Jervohl soothed, patting her mother's arm, "But I think you should remember that he _was_ a centaur. Toby is human; his body does not fight ailment the way ours does. It may be that his recovery needs more than just time and rest."

"At least there is hope," Hessie offered quietly, "Mr. Williams is a resilient man from what I see. If he knows that he has an equal chance of recovery as not, he will wait patiently."

Pandora snorted. "Then you do not know Toby. He will be demanding to get out of that bed by this time tomorrow. Even with a high fever he could never stand to stay still. He was worse than Dieter, Jervohl, except he does not ask to be constantly amused. No, he asks to be allowed to live his life as if nothing had happened. You wait. He will be asking to clean dishes or dictate letters just for something to do."

Jervohl winced in sympathy. She could well imagine how someone so used to an active and ordered day would hate to be left to nothing but mental ruminations and sitting propped up in bed. She herself hated it. Even if she was sitting wrapped up in a corner of a busy room, she preferred that to lying down by herself. And Dieter! Oh, Dieter had been a terror when he had to stay in bed! The entire household had had to work out a duty roster to make sure he had enough visitors to make his day interesting.

"I simply cannot imagine how Jareth could do such a thing," Pandora mused, uncoiling the ribbon from her left hand and putting it on the table, "To be so careless! There is no excuse for him to lose his temper so badly."

Eloise snorted.

The two fae turned around again and regarded her suspiciously. "Yes?" Pandora asked, "Did you say something, Eloise?"

"Me, my Lady? No." She bent down to knot the gossamer thread perfectly and then straightened up to reach for the sharp blade she kept for her sewing. One flick of the wrist and the job was done; quite neat too, if she said so herself.

"Eloise, you clearly have some opinion on this matter. Tell us."

The goblin laid the glove carefully aside and then folded her hands primly in her lap. Lifting her chin defiantly, she steeled herself. "As you wish, my Lady. There was no excuse for His Majesty, you say. Perhaps we should hear the facts first, my Lady."

"Fair enough. Do you know any of the facts?"

"Enough, my Lady. Ezreeka spoke with me, my Lady. Pretty young thing she is, with no one else to talk to that she can trust apart from Hessie." The goblin bestowed a respectful nod to the woman beside her. "She tells me they were arguing, and badly. Said they were almost shouting when she left."

Pandora nodded. "Did she repeat any of it to you?"

Eloise's face never changed expression. "Never asked to hear it, my Lady. None of my business, I'm sure."

Jervohl rolled her eyes and stifled a grin. Where Jareth had dug up this little fighter, she didn't know. But her brother would have to face more in-depth questions that where he got his servants. Their parent was livid over what had happened to her mortal foster son. And Pandora and Jareth had always been at loggerheads, since he had been a youth and begun to think for himself. Pandora had never made concessions for any of her children and Jareth had quite simply refused to be anything but outspoken to her in his turn. She always suspected the worst of him, whatever she might want to be true.

"Mother, I am sure Toby can tell you everything that occurred before Jareth blinded him tomorrow morning when he wakes up," she remarked, tugging on the older lady's arm to get her to rise, "Come. We should go eat. I am sure Hessie and Eloise want their dinner too."

"We _should_ wait for Jareth."

"Mother, listen," Jervohl urged.

The older fae started and turned her ear to the faintly audible outside. Something sounded vaguely unusual, but she wasn't quite sure what… "Rain?"

"Rain. Jareth's just changed the entire weather forecast for this evening, Mother. I imagine he is not up to dinner with his family tonight. If he isn't dining off rats and other small creatures as it is."

Pandora shuddered and grimaced. Rats! He spent far too much time as an owl. Had she ever raised him to think that living life as another species was acceptable? No. This was not her fault! Galen couldn't blame her for the way their eldest had turned out. Though knowing her late husband's opinion of that eldest child, no doubt the fae would have bluntly said Jareth was all spine and no body.

She pushed those thoughts away and smiled at Henn as the goblin brought the food in. Time enough there would be for these things. At the table, she tried to keep the conversation free from any potential landmines.


	35. Whore

Author's Note: This is a flashback to explain why Jareth lost it the other day to the extent that he hurt someone just because Toby called him a whore. I should probably explain this in the chapter, but there have been a lot of references to a second time that Jareth approached Sarah. This is it.

* * *

"**What do you want? I never wished anyone away!"**

**She looks so beautiful in the moonlight, still half-asleep and yet hissing like a tiger cub. Claws extended to rip at him. Her cheeks are flushed and he wonders why for just a moment until she visibly shivers and pulls the covers tighter around herself. **

"**You must be cold," he says inanely, "Here. Let me shut the…"**

"**What do you want?"**

**He smiles a little to himself but ensures the catch is fastened securely before turning back to her. He clasps his hands lightly behind his back and tries to think of how best to broach the subject. **

"**I'll- I'll call my Dad!" Her voice is rising. Fear? Perhaps. Annoyance and aggression certainly. **

"**I need to talk to you," he says bluntly. Best to tell her the truth and get it over with. The sooner she knows, the sooner he will have his answer. Rather, the sooner he can persuade her to see things his way. **

"**I never wished anyone or anything else away," Sarah insists, "And why are you wanderingaround my bedroom in the middle of the night, anyway?"  
**

"**Dear Sarah, you have no need to wish away anyone just to see me," he tells her fondly, "And I am wandering around your bedroom, as you put it, because I have a very important matter to discuss with you. One that you are interrupting."**

"**Oh." **

"**As I said, this is a matter of great importance. Sarah, do you remember the night you wished your brother away? And no, this does not involve any of your family or friends being wished away. Though I would be happy to take anyone you wanted gone?" He phrases it as a question, but drops the topic when she gives him a dirty look. "As you like."**

**She seems to be struggling internally with some doubt or another but eventually she seems to think that just playing along will make things clearer. Certainly Jareth does not intend to give her any more information that he needs to at the moment. Not just yet. **

"**Most of it," she admits cautiously. **

"**I see. Do you remember that story you told him?"**

"**I… yes. A- a little; why?"**

**She is scared now. Her green eyes wide and her knees hugged tight to her chest. Dark hair against cream bedding. Could she look any more delectable? Possibly. When she is older. When she learns to know the spell she weaves so unconsciously. So prettily. **

**Jareth walks closer, hands still clasped behind his back, eyes trained intently, hungrily, on her face, waiting eagerly for any sign at all that this is not an unfavourable suit to her. "What no one knew," he recites softly, "Was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl." He waits, apprehensively, for her shock exclamations. **

"**You're joking," she replies at last, "This is some kind of trick, right? You're trying to make me say that you _do_ have power over me. And then you'll take Toby away again. Is that it?"**

**He is standing in her bedroom and all the silly chit can think of is a squalling baby! He growls and pounces at her, losing patience and composure in one fell swoop. "Are you _really_ as stupid as all that?"**

**She might even be amused at such an honestly frustrated comment, except the Goblin King is on her bed, less than a foot away from her and licking his lips as if he is about to eat her alive. Intimidating and dangerous. The only light from the street outside shining in a glorious halo around the wildness of his hair, briefly lighting one side of his face as he tips it to look at her. **

**She leans away, breathing hard as her heart pounds in her chest. She had been asleep, dreamlessly resting until some quiet voice had woken her up. Or had they? Is this all just another dream? Just another weird side effect from that fantastical trip through the Labyrinth?**

"**You're not real," she snaps, "You're just another nightmare. I don't have to listen to you."**

"**I am real, Sarah. Open your eyes and look at me."**

"**No."**

"**Open those pretty green eyes." He leans even closer, dangerously close to being intoxicated. Will she flinch if he were to put his hand on her cheek? Will she scream if he tries to steal a kiss? She is young. But then she is also mortal and mortal youths start very young these days, or so he hears. It would be just a kiss. Just for her benefit. "Open for me."**

**Softly crooning her name as he restlessly strips off his gloves and tosses them behind his shoulder. Raising his hands to cup her face and she does not fight him! She wants this; he can tell. Good! It makes things so much easier when she is malleable. It thrills him to think that she feels the same. She must! Something this right, this enormous- it is fate or destiny, not just a flash of attraction. She must feel it too?**

**She does not open her eyes. She shakes her head but he wilfully refuses to interpret that as anything to do with a negative sentiment. If she feels the same way, she will not say 'no' to a kiss, to a touch. He will not bed her, here, oh no! He will wait. She is young and she needs to grow. But he will be there to guide her, to love her, to help her with all those annoying little obstacles that nature places in the path of life. She will not want for anything; he can tell her that now. **

"**Just a kiss," he whispers, "Just to taste you."**

**So he does. He tastes her. Because she is there and near-perfect and warm beneath his fingertips. She tastes of sleep and probably the taste will improve in the morning when her lips are not cold and her mouth is not dry. But it is still a kiss that makes his head spin. Because this is Sarah! He cannot possibly kiss Sarah and not feel his wild nature slip its leash. She does that to him. She chains him to her, and then drives him beyond what he can endear. **

**And he repays her for it with a groan. One hand sliding down to wrap around her waist and the other hand roughly gripping the back of her skull. The kiss deepens and he can feel her breath hitch as she allows him, feels her lips open just a little more very uncertainly. **

**Those damned knees are still clasped to her chest!**

**Jareth breaks from her very reluctantly, blood singing in his veins and confident that this cannot have gone better. He has won! She could not kiss like this and not want him too? She could not match this fervour in him if the feeling does not stretch beyond lust to love? Savage need that threatens to make them both the centre of the other's universe?**

"**Sarah," he calls softly. **

**She eventually opens her eyes finally. Pure, soft, moss green eyes. And she takes a deep breath and licks her lips. "What did you do?"**

"**I kissed you, dear Sarah." He feels magnanimous in his happiness. "Did you like it?"**

"**I've never been kissed before," she confesses, looking a little frightened by such an admission. "I don't understand."**

**Jareth sits back and uses the arm around her waist to pull her close to him. He hums comfortingly against her hair, knowing that it is a restful sound to make to soothe nervous females. She seems to like it. She relaxes, resting softly against him. "I know. But there will be time for words later. Lie with me."**

**She does, slowly uncurling from her little cocoon and trusting him. **

**He smirks at her and then sighs in satisfaction as she awkwardly tries to find a comfortable spot on his shoulder. **

"**You're all skin and bone," she complains, lifting her head to glare at him. **

**In answer, he only kisses her again briefly and laughs softly at her fire, at the blush that stains her cheeks. "And you are a very soft little bundle, my Sarah." Daringly he lets his hand trail up and down her waist. Not rotund, but she still has her puppy fat. **

"**Are you trying to tickle me? Because I don't get ticklish."**

"**No, I am touching you. And I am doing so because I _like_ touching you."**

**She blushes again- and he is convinced he will never stop being amused by that- and wriggles a little against him. "That's alright, then," she says. **

**Alright? His touch is alright? His hand moves without his permission, rises from her waist to gently cup her breast. "Is this alright?" he asks huskily. **

"**No!" Her gasp is shocked and he removes his hand immediately. **

"**Sorry. I won't do it again. Not until you ask me, at least," he says, apologizing with a joke, trying to tease her into laughing. He didn't mean to scare her like that. **

**The bed is awfully small and during the long silence that ensues, Jareth just holds her but wonders if it would be permissible to wish them elsewhere. Perhaps to his bedchamber? His room is warm and they could have the windows open. He likes fresh air. Hates stuffy rooms and closed spaces almost as much as he hates drunken goblins. **

"**Jareth, what is going on?" **

**Her question startles him, it comes so unexpectedly from the darkness. He was certain she had gone to sleep, her breathing was so regular and her form so still. "We're enjoying each other, luv. Not as much as we could be, but this is nice. Isn't it?"**

"**Yeah. Nice. What do you mean- 'not as much as we could be'?"**

**He chuckles lightly but shakes his head. "All in good time."**

**Her warm fingers reach up hesitantly to touch his lips and he kisses them. "Ever had a man in your bed, Sarah?"**

"**Just Lancelot," she giggles. **

"**I take it you have not, then. Good." He sounds far too pleased with himself. But in all seriousness he cannot help himself. He will be the first to draw her out of herself, to taste her and touch her and make her feel as if the entire world exists just to fit between her legs and give her pleasure. **

"**I'd think you'd want someone with experience. You know, like all those women at that ball. They seemed to know something I didn't."**

"**Oh, you need not feel jealous on account of their knowledge, Sarah."**

"**No? Why?"**

"**They are not as skilled as you might think." He catches her hand again and raises it to his lips, pressing greedy kisses into the warm flesh and licking the dipping lines in her palm. Clearly the topic bores him. He would rather be using his mouth for other things.**

"**But how can they not be? Look at what they were wearing!"**

"**Sarah, whether they wear low bodices and tight corsets, whether their skirts are slashed to the hip or dangerously diaphanous, the truth is that most females in the underground are a prudish lot." And he does not mean in a good way. **

"**Are you?"**

"**I? A prude? You must be joking!" He laughs, making sure to keep his voice down so no one else in the house is woken. He holds her tighter, loving the soft feel of her in his arms. "I warn you, Sarah, I am no saint. A fallen angel, I, if you must know."**

"**Vain too," she comments dryly. She pulls away a little, self-conscious about the fact that she is pressed against him and he can probably feel the outline of her down the length of his body. **

"**I think I have a right to be," he preens mockingly, "Have you ever met anyone with my handsome face, my charm of manner and exquisite sense of dress?"**

"**Nope. Not sure I want someone who spends more time on his hair than I do."**

"**Have a heart, Sarah. With my hair, I think the time well spent!"**

**She giggles again and nudges him in the ribs, trying to tell him to be quieter. Her Dad finding a strange man in her bed is something she does not want to experience. "About those women," she whispers, not satisfied with something she cannot quite grasp about the way he speaks of them, "What do you mean, they're prudes?"**

**Jareth sighs in irritation. He does not want to be talking about this. He has only just gotten the love of his life into bed and she wants to talk about other women! Usually, this might be considered a dream come true, but he will not share Sarah with anyone else. Even a figurative, imaginary woman. "They seem to be experienced and they are not. Very simple."**

"**How do you know this? Oh, wait- you're the Goblin King."**

"**It has nothing to do with my being King. I know the women. Some of them will allow one to seduce them, but will then tearfully deny all active participation. Most will say no and be very shocked that the man being treated to a show of most of their bodies artistically draped with lengths of gauze will contemplate trying to see more. Bloody cows."**

"**Ouch. That's not very complementary."**

"**I don't like hypocrites. I like a woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to use her body for the ways in which it was intended."**

"**You like women who say yes?"**

"**It is easier to make love to a woman who says yes, I think you agree." He is being facetious, but only because this situation has nothing to do with such things. **

**He is unprepared to have Sarah wrench herself out of his arms and switch on the bedside light, tight-lipped and angry. He brings up a hand quickly to block his eyes from the light and blinks disorientedly at her.**

"**Get out," she spits, "I can't believe I trusted you. I can't believe I thought you could be trusted!"**

"**Sarah, what are you talking about?"**

"**How many of those women have you slept with?"**

**This is ridiculous. They have barely shared two kisses and she is already accusing him of cheating on her? Why should she? He has not said anything that implies that he plans to cheat on her. "Sarah, those women are in the past. If I slept with any of them, and I will not deny that I have, it will never happen again."**

"**Because they're prudes?" she yells, "Because you're _bored_ with them?"**

"**Ssh! Your father and step-mother are in this house."**

"**Then let them come. I don't care! I don't! And don't touch me or I'll scream rape." She is furious, with angry spots of red in her cheeks and her eyes flashing fire. She has dropped the covers and her t-shirt is all that is left on her slender frame. "Get out!"**

"**Sarah…"**

**She slaps him across the face... hard! **"**No! You got bored, so you thought you'd come up here and have some fun? What kind of pervert are you?"**

**He is shocked. "Sarah, I have no idea what you are talking about."**

"**You- you touched me." Her voice breaks, just a little. "You only want me to- to… you know. So you can be happy you got the last laugh. 'Poor, naïve Sarah! Wasn't she a barrel of laughs?' Well, I won't! So there!"**

"**You're making a mistake…"**

"**No. You know what, you're nothing but some egotistical old queen who gets his kicks out of being nasty. I can't believe I thought you meant… and if you really need all those women to keep you satisfied, then you're nothing but a cheap whore who doesn't know any better."**

**Her lip is trembling, but she is lashing out in her anger, in her betrayal. Jareth's face has blanked out all emotion and he is just watching her, poised in the moment before stealthy flight. He simply waits for her to finish. And then he bows to her and looks quickly at her door. **

"**I have to go," he says coolly, "Your parents have heard you. Just know this- if you ever change your mind and decide to trust me, just wish to see me. If there is ever any way I can be of assistance, know that I am completely at your disposal."**

**She waits for him to leave before she stumbles to her bed and collapses in a teary heap. She cannot believe that he had come to her in the night, offering her such hope and adventure and then burst it all in such a cruel way. And all for the sake of revenge. Why else could the Goblin King possibly want anything to do with the mortal girl who beat his Labyrinth?**


	36. Clean Up

The rain stopped on the second evening and Jareth made his slow way out of the Labyrinth towards the Castle. His time out on his own had settled his roiling emotions and calmed him again. The morning he had spent letting his senses absorb the cool and peace of the world around him had eased him. How could one stay angry when one's veins throbbed with the same intensity as a river of water?

Going back to the Castle was not enticing, however. He would have to explain himself. At worst, he would have to apologize. The Goblin King did _not_ apologize. And why should he in this case? He had been insulted and by rights, Toby might have been in an oubliette before he could blink for what he had done.

'… _nothing but a whore who doesn't know any better_…'

Jareth abruptly changed courses and began to walk back to the Labyrinth. Damn Sarah! He did not want to go through all of that again. He missed her every day. Was it even possible to miss someone that one had never actually known? It seemed it was, because he _missed_ her. Savagely. And the wound of it still hurt all these years later.

"I know better," he muttered, just to say something, "I know so much more than you thought I did, dear Sarah."

That had not been his finest night. Not his finest day. Not even his finest week or year. The entire Underground had pointed their fingers and whispered behind his back- literally, if he ever attended any of the balls. A few had the temerity to throw them in his honour and promise to find him a 'proper Underground female'. He didn't _want_ a 'proper Underground female'! How alien a concept was it?

"Here you are."

Jareth straightened back and head very quickly, automatically glaring at the intruder. Most of the people that lived around him knew better than to bother him when he was thinking unless it was an emergency. Only Elban would ever dare. "What do you want?" he snapped rudely.

"Jareth, stop. Wait. Please!"

The Goblin King halted in his stride and waited for the forest sprite to catch up. "Elban, what are you doing here?"

"Do you realize you have been gone for over two days? No one knows where you are. We were all worried."

"And when did they call you?" Jareth growled, clearly not pleased about what he was hearing.

"I came to the Castle door halfway through dinner. You weren't there so I followed your trail to the Labyrinth."

They walked in silence for a long while. Rather, Jareth took out all of his frustrations in walking and Elban kept up. Not especially hard; Jareth was prone to draining himself in furious bursts of energy until he had to pull himself to a halt. It happened as it always did. He stopped abruptly, breathing a little hard, wild-eyed and annoyed with himself and his companion, and switched plans of actions. "Why are you following me?"

"Because I am trying to talk to you and you are not in the mood to listen," Elban said simply, "But that is all right. I can wait."

Jareth put his hands up to rub his temples. "What exactly do you want?"

A soft, deep sigh and then a gentle hand on the Goblin King's dark sleeve. "Come with me, Jareth. I won't take you back to the Castle, I promise. But I've been waiting out here for you the whole day and I want to sit down now."

The Goblin King followed silently, stone-faced and reserved. Elban didn't press him to talk. Jareth wouldn't, if he didn't want to. And Elban respected that. He only took him away to a place just outside the Goblin City where they could sit beneath a tree and talk. There was enough sunlight to keep them warm, and a cool breeze to keep them comfortable. Perfect. The low rumble of the City just within earshot was soothing and restful, highlighting the peace of the field they were in.

"I know something is upsetting you," Elban began, making sure there was a distance between the two of them, "I know you will tell me if you want to. But I just want to be certain that you're- what is the expression… not unravelling like a cheap suit? Yes, that."

"I am surprised at you, my friend. Comparison with a cheap suit is mortifying."

"If the shoe fits, Jareth, if it fits. Can you honestly tell me that you are behaving rationally?"

"I have never been rational."

"No. But you have always been sane. Flashing starlight in a man's eyes because he is arguing with you is not sane. Throwing a bolt of lightening at your sister when she loses her temper with you is not sane. Sending me letters that say nothing makes me question just how much you want me to be here to talk to you. And you have never wanted that before, so no, it is not quite sane."

If anything Jareth looked genuinely confused. "What do you mean? I've never given any indication that I do not like your company. You are a good friend."

"Yes," Elban replied dryly, "Possibly your _only_ friend. You keep chasing the others away."

"They were never worth it." The figurative 'they' were dismissed with a flick of a white wrist, the gloves being slowly removed and set aside. Jareth rubbed his hands on his breeches and sighed, stretching as fully as he could.

Elban just watched him, studying him up and down with worried eyes. Posture was stiff. Jareth's clothes were rumpled and in need of a wash. He looked tired and restless and ragged around the edges. Never a good sign. It was second nature to the fae to be contemplating a hundred different things, but he had always maintained an aura of peace before. Elban couldn't feel that aura of peace any more.

"I am tired," Jareth admitted unexpectedly, "Tired of the whole damned lot of you. What do you _want_ from me?"

"We're worried. I think we have every right to be."

"Why? I am not insane. I think rationally and I function as well as any thinking creature should. I do my duty and my behaviour is no worse than usual. What else am I suddenly supposed to be doing?"

"Toby is…"

Jareth snorted and shook his head violently.

"No, stop denying anything and listen: Toby has lost his sight. Because you flashed the starlight a little too brightly straight into his eyes. The healer says it will take time to heal, if it heals at all."

Jareth froze, eyes fixed on Elban's face with a curious mixture of petty satisfaction and annoyance and disbelief and guilt. He shouldn't have done that, he knew, and now there would be hell to pay for it. He wasn't as surprised as he might have been. But he had instinctively forced the burst of light at the last moment because it was ingrained in his head that he shouldn't use his powers to settle a personal score and in all seriousness, how much damage could light do? He had not expected to send the man blind!

Elban fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist. "I know you are the King of the Goblins, but the law says that punishment must be carried out against any that use magic to harm someone else. You know the leaders will enforce it if they find out."

Was it possible to feel righteous indignation over such a thing? Jareth felt it. He shrugged instead and curled his lip at the presumption of the aforementioned leaders. "Whatever they decide. I could wipe them out with a single wish, but it is their right to insist on Council."

Elban swallowed a growl of distaste. "Toby is insisting it was his fault," he said sharply, "So you need not plan any murders just yet. Honestly! I am trying to be supportive and all you can do is look down your nose at justice. You deserve to be an oubliette and no mistake!"

"And yet I will not be in any oubliette, Elban. Sorry to disappoint you."

"_I_ don't want you in an oubliette at all, you stupid fae. The only reason you are out of one is because of Toby. So don't forget to thank him when you see him next. Which will be less wonderful for him because he _can't see at all_."

Elban sprang to his feet and stalked off, leaving his best friend to lounge in silence as he stormed away. Obviously fuming too.

Jareth smirked at the retreating back and leaned back against the rough trunk, wishing he were back in his Castle just so he could climb into bed and go to sleep. He hadn't slept very much for the past two days. His head had been too full, too intent on working in circles. Not a bad thing, but all the tension in the past month and a half had severed that tight control he kept on his thoughts. Now they were spilling all over the place, running into each other and generally creating more chaos in his skull than he liked.

But Elban had had a point, though. He grimaced at the thought, picking up his gloves reluctantly as he prepared to depart. Messes seemed to be piling up at the moment; one black situation over the other. In all honestly, he wished he could ditch the whole lot of them and go away to the Labyrinth or the Sea- preferably the Sea because it had been years since he had been there.

He approached the Castle via the Goblin City and stopped by a grocery store. The grocer gawped up at him for a moment and then dropped down to his grubby knees and babbled that His Majesty was welcome to anything in the shop.

Jareth picked up a fruit.

The grocer asked him if he wanted it peeled.

The Goblin King looked at him as if he were mad and then wandered off, promising to have the money sent to him. The goblin got thankfully off his knees and mopped his brow, pulling out an enormous pink handkerchief from his pocket with a relieved moan.

The streets were full of goblins- as was logical in the Goblin City- but there were others. The colourful marketplace was full of fae and elves and sprites and dwarves, shopping busily for their houses and their jobs. Three elves were haggling with a goblin over the price of a length of rough table linen. The goblin was charging three times as much as it was worth. Jareth caught her eye. The goblin gulped and lowered the price to a considerably lower sum, hastily pushing it at the puzzled elves as if her very life depended on it.

Jareth smirked in satisfaction and meandered happily, enjoying the din of raucous shouting and many languages. Animals lowed and mewled and cackled around him and while he was careful to avoid them and the messes they left from standing in one place the whole day, he didn't find it particularly unpleasant. No, he liked being in crowds occasionally. It made a pleasant change from constantly expanding himself to feel the entire country. He couldn't even dare to do such a thing here unless it was essential; he would be overwhelmed with the information if he were to try it.

He eventually came to a crooked house at a fork in the road, the red stone stairs scrubbed clean and flowered curtains in the window. He swallowed whatever was in his mouth and tossed the core away into the gutters. Then he knocked on the green door.

"Yes? Oh, oh, Your Majesty!"

The goblin dropped a quick curtsey and then backed away from the door, wringing her hands in her apron in sheer fright.

Jareth rolled his eyes and stepped inside. "Where is the healer?"

"Just- just… I- I'll get him, Your Majesty." She dropped another curtsey, turning to go at the same time. It took her a moment to untwist her skinny body, but she managed it fast enough that she wasn't yelled at.

Jareth disinterestedly selected a chair and sat in it.

He didn't have long to wait. In the space of two minutes a young male elf came into the room and bowed gravely. "Your Majesty. To what do I owe this visit?"

Jareth didn't get up. "I have been away from my family for a few days. On business. I met just a few hours ago with a friend of mine. He tells me my ward is injured- trouble with his eyes. Will you take his case?"

"Pardon? But Mr. Williams _is_ your ward, isn't he?" the healer asked, looking a little surprised. "I attended him this morning."

The fae wiped his sticky fingers down the front of his shirt and paused as the words sank in. "You were called earlier, were you? What is your diagnosis?"

The male elf studied him curiously for a moment. Like any true healer, he was less concerned with power and prestige as with the questions of health that surrounded the people he met. The light in his house was bad, he was aware of that. Yet still, the Goblin King did not look very well. He might be lounging in a chair with a self-possessed air, but those circles under his eyes were not healthy. Nor was his thinness, or his pallor. Neither did the healer like the restless twitching of his fingers.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" he asked timidly, "The situation is not really so bad. Mr. Williams was not in any pain this morning when I saw him. If that has changed at all, then I have a few potions I can…"

"I haven't seen him yet," Jareth interrupted indignantly, "And I am perfectly fine!" He glared to get his message across.

The elf sighed and gave a mental shrug. It was none of his business in any case. "Sorry. May I sit?" He drew up a chair to that curt nod and sat a respectful distance from the King. "Let me see. My diagnosis. Mr. Williams was, as I said, not in any pain. He did have a slight fever but I believe that is acceptable for a mortal exposed to large amounts of raw magical power. I do not like the shape of his pupils, but it tallies with his ailment. Other than blindness and soreness of the eyes, there is nothing wrong with him whatsoever."

Jareth nodded impatiently to each sentence and then slapped his gloves against his thigh in annoyance. "That is his condition. What about a cure?"

"There is none."

"Anything at all? No course of drugs? Expense is not a concern, as you may imagine."

The elf shook his head apologetically. "No, none at all. I wish there _were_ something I could do. The Lady Pandora asked me about this as well. She seemed very upset. The best I can offer is that the eyes will heal themselves if they are given enough time and are not damaged beyond repair."

"And there is nothing at all that you can do," Jareth completed for him.

"This not an illness in the strictest sense. It is an injury. And one without any broken bones or open wounds. This is beyond me. If you would like a second opinion…"

"Of course not! What would be the point? All healers are alike; no use the lot of you."

The elf shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't quite agree, but disagreeing was not an option he contemplated with any enthusiasm. Everyone knew that disagreeing with the Goblin King when he was already annoyed would only bring his sharp tongue out to play. And he rarely played nice.

"You must have other patients," Jareth eventually said, eyes flicking back to focus unexpectedly, "Thank you for your time. My secretary will make sure that you are paid for this consultation."

Once again, the healer was startled, his brown eyes wide in shock at the thought that this intrusion on his time would be worth anything to him. He had naturally assumed that Jareth was as self-absorbed as everyone said. He had seen nothing to change that assumption; until this. "Thank you, Your Majesty, but I cannot charge you for this. There is no active help I can give you or your ward and it would not be right…"

"Gonzo will pay you," Jareth repeated forcefully, getting to his feet, "Look for him tomorrow morning. Are there any other cases in my Castle that I should know about?"

"The centaur who works in your kitchen, Your Majesty. She is due to deliver her firstborn soon. It might be wiser to excuse her from her duties for a month and send her home."

"Consider it done. Have you seen her?"

"Yes. She is in perfect health. The birth should be relatively easy."

"Yes," Jareth commented dryly, "As easy as threading a needle with a tree trunk. And as painful."

The healer smothered a smile but couldn't help looking amused anyway.

Jareth gave him an answering smirk and held out his hand. "Thank you. I appreciate your time." He looked around the shabby house with a keen eye. "If you would like to consider moving to roomier premises, perhaps with a hospice attached to the property, come to the Castle. Ask to speak with Yava, my housekeeper, and she will direct you to Gonzo, my secretary."

The healer smiled and bowed over the gloved hand in his. It was an old-fashioned gesture, but it conveyed the thanks he felt. Not that he had ever discounted the fae as being a bad monarch; he had just never thought that the aloof Goblin King would ever notice details.

Jareth left with the feeling of a job well done. Apart from the fact that he was empty handed as far as quick cures for blindness went.

His mother, he groaned, was going to kill him when he got home.


	37. Dawn

Dawn was breaking peacefully over the Underground, streaking pale gold through the sky. It glinted off the leaves of the tree just outside Merilin's residence. He sat at the window of his study and watched it.

Personally, Merilin thought dawn was a very inefficient process. It was never perfect. In fact, some days it was just an indifferent blur of purples and golds and blue. Other days it was a magnificent tapestry the like of which no living being could ever replicate or even comprehend. And its timing was never as exact as it should be. Considering the Underground never experienced any change in seasons or weather, there should be no reason why it could not begin at 5:23 sharp very morning.

The elf had been awake for an hour by that point and he pulled his hastily donned robes closer, looking down once again at the two letters sitting so innocently on his desk. Who knew that the world would come crashing down with a few simple words?

Clear to the other side of the Kingdom, Jareth was pondering the same thing.

"I have never been so ashamed of any of my children as I am of you," Pandora ended, her voice trembling slightly, "I shudder to imagine what your father would do to you for this."

"He would call Council," Jareth said simply, playing with three crystals just for something to do, "He was very predictable."

Pandora stopped and stared. She was still in her nightclothes, a dressing gown thrown over the lot for modesty's sake. And she could not believe that the male she had spent eight hours giving birth to was sitting in a chair in her suite and mocking the man who had helped in his conception. She was too tired to be angry. So she took a seat and sighed, looking worriedly at him with wide blue eyes. "How do you do it?" she asked softly, "How can you sit there and pretend that you feel nothing?"

The damaged eye was closed, but the blue one so like hers was open and watching her calmly. "I never pretend to be anything, Mother. You know that."

"Predictable?" she echoed searchingly.

Jareth sat up reluctantly and folded his legs up under him on the brocade seat. "Every word out of his mouth was predictable. Every course of action was predictable. Tell me you never felt that too and I will know you are lying, Mother."

Pandora blushed a little and smiled humourlessly. "No, I felt it too. He was a good man, but he certainly was predictable. Bluff and blunt and too open for his own good."

"Then why the hell are you so upset because I said what you thought?"

"Jareth, do you never think that sometimes you need to keep a still tongue in your head?" Pandora pointed out, "That sometimes you need to pick the arguments worth winning and those that will only lead to trouble for everyone?"

"Of course."

"Then why- _why_- do you do the things you do?"

He smiled at her in amusement. "Who can say," he mused, "Why is the sky blue? Why is water wet? Why does, in your case, the Goblin King act as he acts?"

"And once again you make a mockery out of anything serious."

"Oh, is this serious? Oh dear! I had no idea." He settled down even deeper into the embankment of cushions he had built behind his back, sinking with feline smugness into the warming softness. "Forgive me, my Lady. I will try to answer as you wish."

"Jareth, if I were to wish anything, it would be to see you show some kind of humanity."

"I am not a human," he protested.

"No, but even the fae have a human basis that makes us capable of thinking of others. You have yet to show any kind of selflessness."

"I am not a selfless person either."

"So I see. But that was not how I raised you."

Jareth signed his helplessness in the matter. "You did the best you could," he murmured soothingly, "It is not your fault that I am a hopeless case."

She looked at him and wondered if it was even worth fighting him any more. She was too old for this. She should be free to grumble about her ailments and play with her grandchildren. And where were her grandchildren? She didn't have any! And neither of her two surviving children seemed to want to begin that process any time soon.

Perhaps staying in her palace and occupying herself with needlework would make her life less empty. But old though she was, the Lady Pandora was not of the inclination to sit still for days on end and coo over an embroidery frame. She would go mad if she couldn't talk to people and poke her inquisitive nose where it was not wanted. Not that she was ever vulgar about it, of course. Subtlety was her art.

And subtlety was wasted on her son; it flowed off his skin like heat off an icehog.

He puzzled her, this son. Jervohl was easy to read in spite of her added maturity and her secrets. All it had needed was a few months and Pandora was secure in the knowledge that she knew her daughter just as well as she had known her before Gildred. Only superfluous things had changed. But Jareth… Jareth was not easily read.

She couldn't understand him. He was like a tangled skein of thread that went around in circles. Even over a hundred years later, she was still searching for that one strand that would make the tangle collapse into some kind of comprehendible order. Unfortunately, just when she always thought she had found that strand, it turned out to muddle everything up even worse.

"You know, I do believe you go out of your way to be annoying," she remarked acidly, "All of us had a good, long talk about you the other night."

"Good for you," Jareth retorted, "I am going to bed."

"No, you are going to sit there until I am done," she snapped. There was enough steel in her voice that the Goblin King shrugged and decided to humour her. "We all talked about you. Do you know, out of three of us, we each have a different view of your character? Elban thinks you are unbalanced. _I_ think you are misunderstood. Jervohl thinks you are cold. As for Toby- I am not sure what Toby thinks about the fae who is supposedly his guardian but treats him worse than a servant. Eloise, if I am not mistaken, thinks of you as a hard but noble King. Toby's tutor worshipped you as a benevolent master. The goblins see you as some sort of all-powerful deity. The elves see you as an autocratic tyrant. The centaurs see you as dispensable. The mountain sprites have yet to acknowledge you as their King, even if you have conquered them. The forest sprites and water sprites are convinced that you are easily manipulated. The merpeople know better and distrust you. Your brother… Dieter would have died for you."

"Mother, Dieter died for his foolish notions regarding love," Jareth told her comfortably. So far, he had not shown one drop of emotion no matter what she brought up. "If you are trying to blame me for his death,I will not accept that blame."

"I am not trying to blame anyone. Your brother paid for his foolishness, as you call it. We both know that silly mermaid was going to cause him harm and I hope she is satisfied now that the death of a good fae stains her jewelled fingers."

Jareth pictured the pretty young mermaid with the ready laugh and the wealth of red hair. What was it with his siblings and red hair? First Dieter and the mermaid, now Jervohl and the outlaw! And to make matters worse, they always chose quite the wrong type of person. "Marla did not kill him, Mother. The last time you insinuated _that_ I had a political crisis on my hands. Thank God she married that old fool and let him get her out of my way. I hope she is happy."

"Bah! That old centaur was old enough to be her grandfather! What could she possibly see in such a lecherous old goat?"

"Centaur, Mother, not goat. The last time I heard any centaur called a goat in my hearing, it was Luka and I had _another_ political crisis on my hands." He paused for a moment, as if caught by a sudden thought. "I believe I am surrounded by amateurs. No wonder there is so much scandal in the lands."

"No, there is scandal in the lands because you either make very shady deals with people or bed them into agreeing with you. Sometimes you do both," Pandora mocked.

Jareth's head snapped up, but he controlled his temper and only offered her a tight-lipped grimace. "Don't you start. My sex life is my own."

"Not true. If it were just you involved, I would agree. But since the entire Kingdom seems to parade through your bedchamber at one time or another, we should declare your sex life an issue of national interest."

The Goblin King stared in shock for a full moment and then threw back his head and burst out laughing. This was the most vehement his mother had ever been about 'those stories' and he couldn't help but wonder just how much her natural discretion rebelled against bringing it up. She had never done more than hint at it before. He was truly amused by such a scathing attack on his private life.

"Oh, stop laughing," Pandora growled, flapping at him and looking away, blushing and angry with herself for being so embarrassed, "Honestly! This is serious; not a matter to be laughed at."

"You are absolutely right, Mother. What would you like to know?"

"When am I getting grandchildren?"

"When I find the right female to mate with," Jareth said promptly, winking at her.

"There must have been someone you liked from all the many," Pandora pleaded, "Think about your family, Jareth. Think about _me_! I want grandchildren. Do you not want a child of your own?"

"No."

"But Jareth, you _like_ children."

"And I deal with them on a regular basis," the Goblin King pouted, "Dozens; from all walks of life. And the only thing I can find to redeem the little brats is that they are usually not responsible for being wished away. I do not want children that will annoy me to the point that I could wish for some mythical being to take them as far away from me as they can get."

"Jareth, the only mythical being that could take your children is yourself. Which would be pointless."

"No, if I were to wish my child away I would still have to run the Labyrinth or give up my child as a ward of the State. It has happened, as a matter of fact. A Goblin King many thousands of years ago got so frustrated with his teething offspring that he wished her away. She ended up being adopted by a fisherman and his barren wife."

Pandora giggled and gave up. "I am never going to get grandchildren, am I?"

"You should ask Jervohl. I am not in the mood."

"You would have been," his mother prodded, "With Sarah."

"Mother…"

"I am not saying anything about it. I am only pointing out that perhaps you should not negate a family just yet. You have only to meet the right woman and you grow into the most conventional male I have met- romantic, possessive, practical… thinking of engagements and marriages and homes and babies. I was only reminding you."

Jareth's smile twisted unpleasantly but he allowed it. It was true, after all. He could not- in any conscience- brow beat his mother over stating the simple truth.

"Jareth, have you ever considered that some of your antagonistic attitude towards Toby may stem from your anger towards Sarah?" Pandora brought up suddenly.

Jareth froze and raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. "Mother," he said slowly, "You have been talking to Dr. Beck again, have you not? That is it. The man is not coming within ten measuring spaces of you ever again. And I will thank him to stop discussing me either."

"Dear, you have to admit that for someone of his profession, you are very interesting."

"I am not going to allow myself to become a psychologist's pet project," the Goblin King snarled, thumping a cushion with his fist, "I warned him about this! He is going into an oubliette by the end of the day."

"For mercy's sake, be reasonable!"

"I am. I warned him. I told him what would happen if he persisted in this rubbish and still!" Jareth summoned back one of the three crystals he had sent floating around the ceiling and peered angrily into it. It showed him what he desired, a stooped man in his forties, sitting at a perfectly ordered desk and scribbling in an enormous ledger.

"Jareth, put that crystal away," Pandora insisted, catching his wrist and squeezing.

The Goblin King dropped the crystal with a soft swear, pulling his wrist out from between those harsh fingers. "What do you want?"

"Dear, I only worry about you. This man knows how to help people cope with problems such as you face…"

"Listen to me." He grabbed her hands in his turn and looked her in the eye, serious as he hadn't been in a very long time. "Dr. Beck may be the best in his field- which I doubt- and I am sure he is very qualified as a psychologist. But I do not want him anywhere near me."

"Well, have you?" she demanded, "Be honest with yourself for once in your life. Do you ever think about why you dislike Toby?"

"I do not dislike Toby. I just do not like him. We are indifferent acquaintances, Mother."

"Indifferent… but you have bedded him, have you not?"

"No more than a mutual expending of sexual energy," Jareth termed it, wondering at the horrified expression confronting him, "No actual sex."

"You have touched him," Pandora questioned. Jareth nodded. And then winced as sharp nails dug into his palms in spite. "You fool! Are you trying to send him mad?"

"What? Why?"

Pandora wrenched her hands away and stood up hurriedly. "Toby is not like you, you pathetic excuse for a male. Unlike some of us in this room, he does not just let anyone that close to him. Therefore we can conclude that you have either seduced him- which would make his blindness even more painful than it already is- or you have convinced him in some way that sleeping with you will make things easier."

Jareth snorted and threw his hands up in defeat. "I give up," he scowled, "The entire lot of you are mad."

"Mad, am I?" Her voice was rising in octave.

"Yes! The man is twenty-five! What did you think- he was a saint?" Jareth couldn't believe this stupidity, "Has it not occurred to you that he might be perfectly happy having an affair in which nothing but mutual satisfaction is at stake? His boyfriend was caught thieving and banished informally from this kingdom for a year. He is not in the right frame of mind to have another momentous relationship."

Pandora went back to her bedchamber and slammed the door.

Jareth shook his head at her naivety and flung open the outer door, intending to go back to his room and get some sleep. Some blessed sleep! Free of forest sprites and fae mothers. Free of blinded wards and lover-lorn sisters. Free of everything except peace and quiet and the smooth flowing of life and nature.

He didn't notice the twitch of disreputably bitten ears as Gibil cowered into a dark corner and held his breath.

The little goblin could hear his little heart thundering much too fast and fervently hoped that Jareth couldn't hear it as well. Because then he would be in trouble. Worse than trouble, he would be in the Bog. And he hated the Bog! He had a cousin who had been thrown into the Bog. The family was still recovering from the shame. Even eight months later it was still a shock to smell him. Gibil didn't want to be like that.

So he waited, holding his breath until he thought he would burst. Then, and only then- when Jareth was safely in his room- did Gibil fall over coughing and gasping.

His ears burned. He hadn't been meant to hear that conversation; he was sure of that. What was a goblin to do? Gibil's mouth curved into a mischievous smile. He could have a little fun with gossip, that was for sure. And he was certain that Toby would want to hear about it too.

Gibil sobered up. Would Toby want to know? Goblins couldn't really keep secrets unless it was very important. But they were not without finer feelings. And Gibil was very fond of the large blond mortal that had been so kind to him. And while Gibil himself would never have been bothered to hear that the Goblin King didn't like him, he got the feeling that Mr. Williams might not be that indifferent to such news.

Right, then. He wouldn't tell him. Gibil's ears twitched. Alright, he would. But he would feel very bad about it and he would run extra errands for Toby to make up for it. There! That would do.


	38. Outside

Jareth had been standing perfectly still in the doorway for a few minutes, shoulder against the wooden frame and his arms folded. If anyone had chanced to look at him, they would have noticed the corners of his mouth pull down in an aggrieved frown.

The man inside the room was oblivious. He was talking to Jervohl, telling her absurd stories about the infinitesimal trials of trying to ready a palace for a weeklong ball.

"Franja was threatening to leave and Kelmer was bursting into tears at a moment's notice and there was the Lady Pandora, feeling ill and refusing to acknowledge it. Mr. Vinni was no help at all, as well."

Jareth couldn't help cracking a smile. He remembered the delicate water sprite that he had engaged as the young boy's tutor. He had never met Toby, but since Vinni had come with glowing recommendations… Knowing the mortal now, Jareth was not so sure that the choice was anything but comical. And quite possibly part of the problem. Heaven only knew what that stuffy old sprite had convinced a lonely young boy what was owed to his position in the Underground.

"Who was Mr. Vinni?" Jervohl demanded.

"My tutor," Toby answered, grimacing openly, "A singularly irritating person. Very intelligent but of no use if one didn't want to know the geographical location of the famous mining towns or the strategic importance of Tanglewood Forest."

Jareth bit his lip over a laugh. He shook his head at Jervohl's enquiring glance and put a hand up to stifle any audible sounds.

"We had someone similar," Jervohl ruminated, crossing her ankles neatly beneath the chair, "He was a merman, exiled for killing his brother. He worked in the Castle on certain artistic commissions for Gildred. He drove us all mad."

Toby grinned and tried to picture the scene in his head.

Jareth decided that since Toby did not seem to expect to hear from him anytime soon, he would be able to leave. A preferable course of action; Jareth did not look forward to confrontations. He was genuinely sorry for having blinded Toby, but the man _had_ brought it on himself.

He slipped away so quietly that Jervohl was only aware of his intentions when she heard the door shut.

Toby looked up instantly and in the general direction of the door. "Is someone at the door?" he asked cautiously.

Jervohl cast an irritated eye back at the offending door but kept her voice light and reassuring. "No. It was just the wind."

"I'm blind, you know. Not stupid."

She smiled at his scowl and put out a hand to touch his shoulder in apology. "How do you feel this morning? Has anything improved?"

"No. Not even a hint of light." Toby was dejected. It was only five days since he had been blinded, but five days spent without his sight was too long. He couldn't read. He couldn't write. There was nothing he could do that would to occupy his hands, let alone his mind. He couldn't leave the room because he would only need someone to lead him around like a pet on a leash. And he couldn't even walk around the room too much because he might pitch headfirst out of the unguarded windows or run into sharp corners. He had to stay in a chair just to be safe.

"It will get better," Jervohl comforted, still stroking his arm, "You could not have looked at the light for that long."

Jareth paused outside the door and gave up. Of all the nauseating things! If it had been him in that bedchamber he would have gone out of his mind and screamed in fury by now. And he suspected Toby was not the kind to appreciate any of this drivel either. He spun around, smacked the door open and strode in with his usual panache.

"Toby. Sorry to hear about your eyes," he said staidly, "Come with me."

Toby could only blink in shock, his brain back-pedalling those three simple sentences in order to properly hear them. He was certain he had _heard_ them, but understood them? No.

Jareth clicked his tongue and waited. "Well? Am I going to have to repeat myself?"

Toby flushed a little and stood up, a hand on the table for balance. He frowned in concentration, desperately picturing the room in his mind so he could place his guardian in it. As he saw it, he was by the window- there was fresh air blowing into his face- and Jareth was by the door. There was the bed, a metal-bound chest, a cupboard and Jervohl between them. He just knew he would trip over something.

Or not. Cool, covered fingers gripped his arm just about the elbow and tugged firmly.

"You really must learn to hurry," Jareth remarked, "You may not think it but I have work to get done."

Some of the fire returned. "Pardon me," Toby murmured blandly, "Why should a little thing like blindness slow me down?"

Jervohl had vanished with one look from her brother. So she was not there to gasp indignantly when Jareth replied quite seriously, "I wonder the same thing."

Toby refrained from hitting him again but thought blissfully about the wonders of memory.

For all the lack of tact, Jareth was not pushing him into walls or sharp edges. Toby was, in fact, feeling a little displaced. Without anything to feel, he was completely dependant on Jareth for direction. It made him rebellious, mulish, and overall snappish. Which in turn made his voice turn icy and his good humour dry up. "If you can wait just a minute, Your Majesty?"

"No. I do not wait for anyone. What is it _this_ time?"

"Where is the wall?"

"Somewhere you are in no danger of colliding with it. Why? Do you expect me to throw you against it?"

Toby seethed silently for a count of five. And then he smiled sweetly down to his left, where a familiar arrogance was making its bodily presence felt. "No. But I would feel more comfortable if you were on the other side of me and my right hand was _on_ the wall."

Jareth smirked privately to himself. Good. He was quite proud for no reason to see Toby snarl at him again. It meant the mortal wasn't losing himself in useless conversation and self-pity any more. Not, of course, that Toby was liable to do that. If ever there were someone less likely to fall into a depression because he was blind, it would be Toby. "Fine."

He moved away on a whim. "The wall is straight to your right. Go there and wait while I get your coat."

He picked up the soft, battered grey coat and slung it over his arm, keeping a keen eye on the slowly shuffling figure to make sure nothing happened. He was a lot closer than Toby thought, with his hand outstretched to correct any missteps. But Toby made it there and touched the wall.

Blue eyes crinkled as the tiniest smile of gloating Jareth had ever seen ghosted over the plain features.

The Goblin King's smirk widened but he kept his voice as normal. "Good. Here is your coat. Put it on."

"Am I allowed to ask why?"

Jareth offered up a silent prayer of thanks for the forgotten form of address. "We are going out," he said abruptly, sliding the coat up and settling it. "How do your eyes feel?"

"Fine."

"Not sore?"

"Not that I can tell. They might be red but I can not feel anything too different about them."

"Good. Come along then. We have not got all day, contrary to expectations." Jareth tugged him out of the room and moved them quickly down the corridor.

"Jareth!"

The two halted abruptly.

Jareth turned and Toby bit his lip to keep from another gloating smile. The Lady Pandora if he was not mistaken, and not a very happy Lady either. She sounded, if his ears were not deceived, indignant.

"Just where are you going with Toby?"

"Out," Jareth said succinctly, "You are not invited."

"Jareth, a word in private, if you please?"

Toby gestured silently in a 'go ahead' manner and rested against the wall, wishing he could see if only to lip-read the conversation that would no doubt be too low for his ears. Though maybe if he concentrated enough, he would hear something. He could hear the musical notes of the fae language being used. And perhaps that was easier to understand even than English?

"You cannot be serious, taking him out in the condition he is in," Pandora hissed.

Jareth raised an eyebrow and looked from Toby's patient figure to his mother. Toby was listening very intently. The Goblin King raised his voice just a little to test him. "Why not. He is not dying. He is not sick. He is not fatally wounded in any way."

"He is blind!"

"Temporarily," Jareth pointed out, "You need not worry. I will not let him trip over a cobblestone."

"It is not the cobblestones I worry about," Pandora said, "More like the death-trap you call your backyard. And the danger of a crowded City full of scurrying goblins. And there is, after that, the wildness of your Labyrinth."

"Three places that Toby is not going to go without my escort. My death-trap of a backyard is fine if he has someone to guide him. The goblins will go out of their way to rearrange the City around us if they see me with him. And who better to protect him in the Labyrinth than its chosen King?"

"You have an agenda."

"Naturally. You know me better than to doubt that."

"What is it?"

Jareth kissed the old fae on her cheek and smiled down at her. "If you worry," he whispered teasingly, "You will only make yourself ill. Go away, Mother."

She growled at him but he was laughing as he walked away, saying something provoking to Toby and leading him off again. And there were stairs coming up! Pandora closed her eyes and waited for the sound of a sudden thud and a sudden bang. But nothing happened. She went to the stairs and cautiously peered down. They weren't there!

"He apparated," she groaned, wondering why she had not thought of it before. Oh yes, she knew why. Because her son had decided he _wanted_ to give her a heart attack by seemingly taking the stairs. "Rotten scoundrel," she muttered, making her own way down the stairs to find Yava.


	39. Beyond Sight

"Not again," Toby groaned, "I am not sitting down in the grass. I cannot see that bloody tree. What am I supposed to do- listen to the birds singing?"

"You might try it sometime, yes," Jareth answered flippantly, "But I have a better idea. Stand here."

And he let go.

Toby had one moment of sheer disbelief and then he was alone in the middle of the Gods-knew-where, with no sight, no proper sense of direction and more space around himself than he had ever dealt with in his five days without sight. "Jareth!"

The Goblin King stopped immediately and looked around. One sharp glance at the guards at the front entrance to the Castle and both knew better than to take any visible interest in the scene on pain of a large amount of trouble. "Yes?"

Toby hesitated for just a moment and then reached out to his right, where he was certain the fae had been just heartbeats ago. "You are going to leave me here? I could get run over by a goblin."

"They do not move that fast," Jareth retorted, lips twitching. Ah, a brief glimpse of a sense of humour! Maybe adversity _did_ bring out the lighter side in a man. He wondered idly whether he should lame Toby as well; he might turn out to be a riot of fun. "You will be perfectly fine. If you hear or feel trouble coming at you, throw yourself out of the way. Simple."

"But not dignified."

"Would you prefer a dignified death or a less dignified life?"

Toby frowned and shrugged. "I would prefer to live my life with dignity. Whether I die or live a day more is irrelevant."

The guards exchanged looks of suspicion. Their King looked… for want of a better word, he looked interested. Far too interested. Almost predatory. And that was never a good sign because the higher his interest in the chase, the less likely he was to display any kind of fairness.

Mismatched eyes snapped to them and they straightened instantly, quivering a little to have been caught doing something improper. Jareth's fingers twitched but he did nothing, merely let his voice cool just enough to serve as a very audible warning- "Then rest assured, Toby, I leave you in the safest hands in my Kingdom. You are at the entrance to my Castle, with two of my own guard keeping a very close eye on you. They will be most happy to give their lives for yours. Hmmm?"

They saluted instantly with their battleaxes, silent and stiff with precision.

Toby heard the sudden clang of armour and jumped. It sounded very loud, almost as if it was right behind him. And now that he was thinking about it, he could hear the rasp and click of weapons being returned to their holding loops for safekeeping. And was that soft breathing he could hear?

The Goblin King left his ward puzzling out the wide avalanche of sounds bearing down upon him and sashayed away in search of his faithful steed.

His faithful steed was sulking.

"How long has she been like this?" he demanded, gazing moodily at her rump and not liking the view in the least.

The mountain sprite scratched his knotty head and drawled, "Day or two, Your Majesty. Doesn't eat and creates a right fuss at night. No doing anything with her. Just like a woman."

Jareth smacked him upside the head but didn't really bother too much. The mountain sprite lopped away with a rough grumble into his beard. Jareth leaned closer across the stall door.

Serenity twitched her long tail gracefully from side to side.

"Serenity, I apologize."

She actually had the gall to harrumph at him.

"Will you at least turn to look at me? I need your help."

She had nothing to say. Not, in itself, a spectacular thing for a mare that didn't talk, but she had always seemed surprisingly intelligent. Her keeper took it as a bad sign that she gave no sign of hearing him.

Jareth sighed and leaned heavily against the stall door in resignation. "Yes, I suppose this is stupid of me. After all, I am talking to a mare. A _winged_ mare, it is true, but a mute animal none the less. Nothing more than a dumb beast, really, for all her pretty ways and speaking eyes. I should learn not to expect a creature to understand me; and she is just like any other creature in my Labyrinth. Utterly hopeless."

Serenity had heard quite enough. She might not understand human-based people. She might not speak any language at all. She did not even comprehend words or the strange sounds that speaking tongues shaped. But she did understand rejection and derision. Since derision often meant danger for her, she jerked around with a squeal of rage and went for the person she perceived as her attacker, wings stretched to full span above her.

Jareth stepped hurriedly to the side, and stripped off his gloves. He didn't like doing this to his Serenity. She would one day learn to either ignore him or she would refuse to forgive him. The fae really didn't want to lose her either way.

She paused for just a moment at the locked door and pushed against it, snorting and baring her teeth, getting ready to bash the weak wooden structure through with her sharp hooves.

Jareth began to sing in his native tongue, bared hands reaching for her proud neck, barely skimming the haired surface before she twisted away. But she wasn't pushing against the stall door any more and she wasn't rearing up. Even the span of her wings was lowering, the feathers folding gently back into place.

Jareth moved closer to her, standing in front of her and holding out one hand for her to sniff suspiciously at while the other rose cautiously to tangle in her mane.

Serenity huffed, but stilled.

"Clever girl," he soothed, stroking her in all those little places he knew she liked, "Forgive me, Serenity, for putting you through that. I know you hate it. But you really must stop sulking at me."

She nudged his shoulder and whinnied.

"Peach?" he offered, turning a crystal for her.

She scoffed for a while but gave in eventually, nibbling at it in an almost reluctant manner.

"I need your help, Serenity. You remember Toby Williams? My ward? Yes, strange, I know. But he has lost his sight and cannot see. Will you come with me to him? I think you will cheer him up no end. What do you say?"

She didn't reply. She didn't have to. The Goblin King was already opening the stall door and encouraging her out. She followed him, docile and still shaken from that horrible experience with the fear. Doggedly certain that the fae that had fed and cared for a tiny little foal would protect her from any danger. It didn't matter that the danger had come from Jareth himself. Just so long as he was there after everything to calm her, he would remain the one she chose to spend her time with.

"Toby?"

A blond head turned hurriedly towards the sound of his voice. Blue eyes crinkling automatically as the light fell across his brow even though it hadn't registered through the optic nerve. Toby shifted from one foot to the other and waited.

"I have a guest for you," Jareth explained, "Serenity needs exercise. Would you like a ride?"

"A ride?" That, Toby had not been expecting.

"Yes. Serenity usually accompanies me for a walk past the Goblin City to the Tanglewood Forest. She would be happy to bring you with us."

Toby considered that. The last time he had been up on the mare, it had been exhilarating. The kaleidoscope of browns and greens and blues had spread out below him like a patchwork quilt. The air had pushed passed him with a soft howl and a low growl and it had felt like magic to feel the steady stretch of muscles holding him up. Of course, he had been flying then. He would certainly do no such thing now!

"Serenity is quite safe," Jareth tempted, "And I will be there."

"The entire Goblin City could be there," Toby pointed out reasonably, "But I _am_ blind. I cannot see anything at all. What if I lose balance? I can't see to grab a hold of Serenity; at least, not without risking hurt to her."

"She will heal, won't you?" Jareth petted his mare and tickled a soft ear.

Toby sighed and shook his head. "It was a good thought. But no."

"Try it," the Goblin King insisted.

Three minutes later, Toby was smiling to himself as Jareth guided his hands over the horse's flanks and neck. "To get you acquainted and comfortable with the feel of her," the Goblin King claimed. It had been rather a shock to touch something so warm and full of life, to feel the steady rise and fall of ribs even if he was just talking about a horse.

And Jareth's hands- hard, delicate, long fingers that wrapped soft-skinned around his own. Velvet compared to Serenity's soft hide; silk compared to anything Toby remembered.

They distracted him, those hands. They made him remember the flash glimpses in his mind's eye of wild, blond hair tailed out on the pillow; a hunched, pale shoulder meeting a long, slender back to greet him every morning. And there was that one morning when Toby had stayed in bed long enough to watch the fae wake up with a yawn and a mutter and sleepy eyes peering around to see if he was there.

"… so you can get up on her back now."

"Sorry, what?" He blinked a few times to clear his mind of the unwanted images.

A soft sigh and Jareth's rich voice came closer to his ear, hard fingers squeezing lightly before pressing his own hand insistently to take a firm grip on the demure mare's back. "Pay attention! I told you that you could mount her now. Take a ride while I lead."

The worries came flooding back. It was so high! And what exactly could Jareth do when one came down to it. "I still think this will not be a good idea."

"It will be. I am usually right, so you might trust me a little more."

The cocky sneer had probably been meant as a joke, Toby surmised. But the sentiment behind it was real. Jareth had rescued him from an awkward bout of misery. He had barked at him and pushed him and refused to make his blindness any kind of barrier. And for all that Toby would have liked at least an apology, Jareth seemed to be going out of his way to make things better. In fact, the mortal realized, this was probably as close to an apology as he was likely to get. That didn't sound very nice to him. He was going to insist on it. Jareth couldn't just get away with it.

"Toby? Serenity is getting restive."

The mare whinnied softly and bumped against him. Toby considered it. And concentrated. He had done this before, so if he could just consider the measurements again…

Jareth took a step back as the mortal swung up suddenly. Shocked, his first instinct was to grab Toby by the waist and steady him. His second instinct was to shout at the man for being so bloody foolhardy. But the jump had certainly seated Toby, even if Serenity had snorted and begun to sidle a little in aggrieved insult. She settled down easily when Toby crooned softly to her and scratched just behind her left ear.

"Are you sure?" Jareth demanded, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

Toby nodded vaguely and continued to look straight ahead, that little furrow deepening between his eyes.

Jareth shrugged and then took a firm hold of her mane. He would never put a rope or bridle on her- unless it was for her safety- and he knew damned well that the first moment he tried such a possessive trick with her, she would baulk. Jareth knew when to yield. At least with Serenity he had always got it right.

He risked another glance at the mortal shifting easily with the rocking motion of the horse carrying him. Toby had a good seat. He was not precisely that heavy because while he was large, Serenity was more than a match for his strength. Jareth felt himself relax.

"I do not know if you have ever read any of Jason Plassi's works, but I think you would enjoy the kind of skill he brings to literature," Jareth said suddenly, "In fact, I insist you read 'Silas'. Possibly one of his best works."

Toby tilted his head and unconsciously shifted warm fingertips to touch the back of Jareth's hand. "I believe I _have_ read it. Not a subtle choice of topic, Jareth. It was about loss of sight."

"Not subtle at all," Jareth agreed companionably, "But there was one very interesting thing about his work that very few people knew- he spent months enduring the themes that he wrote about. In this case, he blindfolded himself for an entire eight months and hired someone to take notes for him on his condition."

"Really?" A spark of enthusiasm. Not politeness this time. Just plain enthusiasm. "I never had heard that before. Are you sure?"

"Very sure. I had it from a reliable source."

"Who?"

"My predecessor, King Hayle. Luka's father."

"Luke's father? He is spoken of very well."

"Yes, naturally. He made it a point to know his artists as friends. He was very good with his people," Jareth remarked, thoroughly without rancour or malice, "Too good. He made them believe that the land was theirs to do with as they wanted."

"Is it not?"

"No. The land is shared. There needs to be a balance," the Goblin King explained, "The land needs to remain wild and free and untamed. It needs to be left in peace. We can only take what we need and try to make do."

Toby was silent for so long that Jareth began to think the conversation had died down. Until the mortal touched the back of his hand again and said honestly, "I cannot help but think you are going in the opposite direction to King Hayle. I certainly agree that some parts of the land need to be preserved. But surely it is too much to ask that every race in the Underground be subjected to claustrophobia because they are too afraid of using a fertile resource?"

Jareth was so pleased by the gentle challenge that he chuckled lightly, noting with pleasure that Toby didn't even seem to realize what he had said that was so funny. "That is true," the fae said quickly, "But logical nature being what it is, you cannot allow free reign. Where does one draw the line? It is easier to keep limits if one is stern and says that 'no' means 'no'. After the fact, allowances can be made with suitable outward outrage."

"So you lie and deliberately set the standard too high, knowing that a few will fall and knowing that you will dismiss the supposed crime?"

"Cleverly put. That is exactly it."

"But that simply breeds guilt in people."

"Not if one looks at it logically. The only people who will- as you put it- fall, will be the ones who have already reasoned out that it is no unspeakable sin and those who are desperately in need. Both categories are the only categories that I might legally consider allowing to have the virgin land in any case, so that would be all right."

Toby laughed, shaking his head in rueful admiration. "Your mind is too circuitous, Jareth. It would be so much simpler to have a set rule that says 'yes' when you mean 'yes' and 'no' when you mean 'no'. But such a thing is beneath the Goblin King. He needs to take basic instinct into account!"

"Toby, life is never going to give you a set rule. It will say 'yes' when it means 'no' and it will say 'no' when it means that you have not the chance of matching me in a game of chess."

"Is this an indirect challenge to match you in a game of chess?" Toby sighed.

"Of course!"

"I cannot see the board, Jareth."

"Oh, stop complaining! Jervohl can make herself useful." Jareth spoke with all the faith of an overbearing older brother.

Complaining? Toby patted Serenity. "I suppose it will not hurt," he allowed, "But when we return to the Castle, there is a talk we need to have."


	40. Far Too Early

Elban was not particularly happy to be where he was. He was comfortable, well-fed and quite sleepy, but the bed was so empty. The room was too… big. There was something missing.

He knew what it was. But did he really want to go to all the trouble of swallowing his pride and going back to the same old routine? No. No, he did not. Beran needed to learn that he wouldn't stand to be a doormat for anyone. He was tired of waiting all day with nothing to do. He was sick of the chauvinistic attitude that said he had to play the feminine role simply because he had chosen to live on Beran's territory. Bloody alpha males! He was sick of them.

And now that he thought of it, he'd been surrounded by them for most of his life. Elban twisted around to the other side of the bed and curled into the cool sheets. He had grown up with Jareth and Dieter, both alpha males if he had ever seen one.

The fights! Oh heavens, the fights! And that one not too long after Dieter's first hunt, when they had come to blows. Jareth had almost lost his left eye in that fight. And there had been nothing he could do about it. The best thing for the both of them had been to stand back and just let them work it out.

Jervohl was never that bad. She was an intelligent female with a core of steel, that was true, but she could listen to sense as well. Elban respected that in her. Hell, he had done it most of his life. Patching up quarrels, pampering egos, scolding and cajoling and pleading- he had done it all. And for what? For people he cared about.

"And then they go and cheat on me," he muttered bitterly to the pillow. The pillow never replied.

But Jareth certainly had something to say when a distraught dwarf demanded entrance to his Castle at three in the morning. Even the servants were blurry-eyed at that time of the day and no one was making any sense whatsoever. And the little goblin standing in the doorway found himself kicked out of the way.

"What do you want?" the Goblin King demanded, fully dressed and frighteningly upset about it, presence filling the entire entrance as if to bodily throw Beran out again and slam the door on him. "Do you know what the fucking time is?"

"Elban is here," Beran interrupted desperately, "I need to speak with him."

"Come back in the morning," Jareth said brutally, turning his back again and gesturing to the guards.

The guards on night duty came forward instantly, nauseatingly alert. One held a spear and the other two got ready to grab and haul.

"Jareth, this is important!" Beran shouted, "Where is he?" One of the guards laid a hand on him and he whirled and punched him in the nose. "Don't even think of it!"

It was really much too early in the morning. "Beran, if Elban has stayed a few days more than he said, that is still no reason to come parading through this Castle and punching my guards," the fae remarked. He looked contemplatively down at the guard nursing a bleeding nose. "You. Get up and get that taken care of. The lot of you get out of here. You're all confined to quarters."

They bowed- as well as they were able in metal armour- and scrambled away.

Jareth watched them go and then turned back to the uninvited guest breathing hard in front of him. He raised a hand and tucked loose strands of blond hair behind his ear in resignation. "Come with me. The entire universe does not want me to sleep so you might as well explain yourself. Let me add- this had better be worth it."

Beran nodded and followed silently, almost running on his stumpy legs to keep up with the Goblin King's long-legged stride. "Elban left me," he snapped abruptly.

Jareth barely reacted. He merely said, "Tragic," in a particularly bored tone and left it at that until they reached his study. "In. Sit."

Beran sat as ordered.

The Goblin King paced in front of him for a while. After two rounds, he looked at the dwarf in silent reflection. After four, he deigned to speak. "Give me one good reason why I should not throw you into an oubliette for this."

"Because that would be stupid," Beran pointed out blandly.

"You realize that this is against the code of conduct in our society, do you not? I have not invited you here at this hour. I have asked you to leave and you have refused. You demand entrance to my Castle and you physically abuse my guards. I could make an example of you."

"Do whatever you want," Beran sniffed, waving the pettiness aside with an impatient hand, "Just let me speak with my mate."

Jareth nodded faintly in decision and summoned a crystal. He dropped it to the floor and it flitted through walls on its way. "He will be here soon enough."

The crystal returned in exactly five minutes, tinged green with forest magic. It contained a message. Jareth picked it out of the air and unlocked it mentally.

The crystal had two words to say- "Go away."

Beran sagged.

"Done. Now will you leave?"

"Jareth, he is my mate. He has chosen to live with me. I have the right to speak with him."

The Goblin King chuckled. "Oh, I think not. He has refused to speak with you. Neither you nor I can force him. Now leave."

"Have you no heart?"

"Plenty of it. When I am not sleepy."

Beran snorted and stayed exactly where he was, glaring at the desk as if about to do the graceful wooden furniture some injury. Not that the desk would complain too loudly, but it would be bad form to mangle someone else's property.

"Beran, _why_ did he leave you?"

"I do not know," the dwarf said bitterly, shrugging helplessly against the question, "When I went home two days ago he was gone. I rode to see the Lady Pandora and Franja told me she was here. I came as fast as I could."

"I see. You really have no idea." The fae did not believe a word of it. A seemingly strong relationship did not break apart for no reason. It was impossible. Even Elban was not… it finally registered what exactly it was that Beran was doing there. "Has he ever mentioned leaving you before?"

A big head nodded once.

"A complete break?"

Another nod.

Jareth sank into the other chair and groaned, rubbing his face to rid himself of the all-consuming need for sleep. Everything had to happen in the morning, did it not? Why not the afternoon? Beran could have gotten here anytime after eleven in the morning and Jareth would have been quite happy to listen. But he was barely coherent let alone in any mood to put up with all this. And he had his own problems without having to cope with Elban and Beran's issues.

"Have you slept for the past two days?" the Goblin King asked.

Beran shook his head. "Not really. I can't sleep." He looked singularly embarrassed about that fact.

"Bed's too empty," Jareth interpreted, "I understand. Come with me." He stood up and gestured to the door. "You can sleep here for whatever remains of the night and then try your luck in the morning. I suggest, however, that you do not punch any more of my guards."

"Your guards should not be so easy to punch," Beran snapped.

"I agree. Which is why I confined them to quarters. Juko can scream at them for it at a more reasonable time in the morning. I might even ask Jervohl to train them. Yava!"

The goblin came at a dignified trot, hastily dressed and her hair messily tied back with a ribbon. Jareth kindly said nothing to her about her obviously sleepy irritation.

"Beran is staying here tonight. Give him a bedroom," Jareth ordered, "Beran, good night. And dare you make another sound until I am properly awake and I might yet order you thrown into the Bog."

"I thought you would throw me into an oubliette?"

"No. Another sound and it will be the Bog. We both know how sensitive Elban's nose is. He won't have you back if you smell of the Bog."

Beran growled beneath his breath at the snide threat and followed after the housekeeper. Yava was not in the mood to make him welcome. But that was alright since Beran was not in the mood to take cheerful welcomes very well. Likely he would have hammered his fists against the wall and screamed from the frustration of it.

He found himself deposited into a bedroom on the far side of the Castle and left for dead. He didn't care. He would prefer to be dead. So he paced.

Up and down. Up and down. Side to side. Around again.

"Bloody stupid sprite," he grumbled to himself, "Always running off in a temper. Always taking offence. Too bloody temperamental for his own good!"

It had been sweet when Beran had first seen him. Exciting. Elban had shown every emotion he ever felt. The sparks had lit like a wildfire when they had met. Not that Beran ever claimed that Elban was boring. On the contrary. But the excitement was too wearing after a while and with a business to run and an estate to manage, Elban was not helping matters with his constant demand for attention. Talking the forest sprite out of a sullen fit the first time was cute, the fourth time was understandable, the eighth time was just infuriating. And when it reached the four hundredth time, after thirty-eight years together, he couldn't stand it any more.

But for all that he would fall apart if that sweet face was not home at the end of every day. If Elban left, then Beran would do something drastic. He just knew he would. Besides, Elban rarely lost his temper in a serious way. He would pout or sulk for an hour or so, but he was more likely to apologize than Beran. And then he would be a ball of sunshine, tumbling around like an affectionate puppy wanting to play.

Beran missed that.

He looked at the bed but felt no compunction to lie down on it. It wasn't his bed. Moreover, it did not have Elban in it. There was always something appealing about having a pretty little forest sprite to sleep with. And Elban talked in his sleep. The night was too quiet without that soft voice murmuring a few words or sentences.

Beran would not sleep in any bed until he had his lovely sprite back. He was determined on that score. A host of Goblin Kings could attempt to throw him out of the Castle and he would only keep coming back. No matter what. He would do it. And for now he would sit in the window and watch the sun rise.

Merilin watched the same sun rise for the second dawn a row and dispassionately noticed that it was four whole minutes late. And it was a boring sunrise. He finally picked up his pen for the forth time and set it firmly to paper.

He might as well let Jareth know. The elf smirked slightly to himself. And this would certainly get his own back on Toby Williams. And without insulting any member of his family as well! Oh, but this was perfect news! Now he just had to play his part properly…


	41. That Will Do

Jareth swung open the door and let Toby find his own way in. The entire Castle was currently heaving a sigh of relief because light had finally begun to show in the darkness.

"Can you see anything?" Jareth called over his shoulder.

"Only a lot of light and hazy shapes," Toby muttered back, attempting not to fall over the chair he wanted to sit on, "What is that?"

"A book. Give it to me, please. The last thing I need is for you to start damaging my property." Jareth confiscated the book and set it on his desk. He glanced at the photo and silently wished that Sarah were here to handle this. He was sure that she would do a much better job with delivering the news to her baby brother than he ever could. In fact, he was sure that Toby would find some way of blaming him for it.

"Jareth, is something wrong? The silence is deafening me." The mortal squinted at the vaguely human shape hovering somewhere in front of him. Now that things were clearing up, his patience had all but vanished into thin air, making him squirm restlessly for having to sit still for long periods of time with nothing to do.

"I have two subjects to discuss with you," Jareth began slowly, "One would be the conversation that you held with Elban today."

Toby's face went blank.

"Toby, you have to tell me whether he means to speak with Beran or not. I cannot stand the two of them moping around me any longer and I am about to do something to remedy it."

The straight nose wrinkled. "What are you going to do?"

"Throw them both out," Jareth answered promptly.

"That is not fair!"

"I never said it was. I said it was a remedy for my nerves. Honestly! If they need act a tragedy in my halls, they might at least write a decent script and let me charge admission. Then I would not have to collect taxes. Which reminds me, I have to collect taxes."

"They were due last month," Toby sighed, "And I think Gonzo has already arranged it. He mentioned something about leaving the papers on your desk."

The Goblin King raised an eyebrow and hunted diligently for a second. Under the heavy sheet of cream paper that had served to make him grimace in anticipation of another screaming fight, he found what Toby was referring to- a letter, attached to a lot of notes, attached to a summary of logistics.

"Ah," he approved, glancing quickly over it, "So I _do_ have money in the treasury. Splendid. I can have the roofs of the Goblin City painted. Brown? Naturally. The goblins would probably get confused if I used a new colour. Heaven forbid we change anything."

"Jareth, I think you are being a little nasty," Toby demurred, "The goblins just do not like change."

"They should! When I give an order I expect it to be obeyed."

Toby stifled a grin. He might have known that it was about Jareth's ego. But he swallowed his humour and went back to the topic, mildly preparing to finish the subject as painlessly as he could. "Jareth, about Elban."

"Yes?"

"I really cannot tell you. He spoke to me in the strictest confidence and I cannot break that. He made me promise."

"So did Beran," Jareth remarked wryly, "And I am perfectly prepared to do whatever I have to do to force their hands."

"Why? It is surely none of our business."

"Perhaps not yours, Toby. But certainly mine."

"Forgive me, but the break-up of a marriage is a moral issue. In which case it is the Duke's business."

"The Duke is a fool," Jareth said disparagingly, "He got the two of us stuck in this situation in the first place. A coming-of-age for a mortal!" He spat the words like poison. "Senile old twit!"

Toby winced, hoping that the Duke did not cross paths with the Goblin King anytime soon. Otherwise, he might find himself being sharply but firmly verbally abused by a tongue that never seemed to have trouble making the corresponding brain's brisk opinions perfectly clear.

"Be that as it may," the fae continued, "I cannot put up with them any more. Thirty-eight years and I have spent half that time being a sanctuary or part of the problem!"

Toby secretly considered Jareth part of the problem, but wisely held his tongue. He was only just regaining his sight after seven days. The last thing he needed was to get into another argument again. This time he might not be lucky enough to recover from whatever Jareth chose to do to him. On the other hand- "You certainly have not helped, from the way Elban describes it."

"He told you about my interference, I suppose."

"He might have mentioned it."

Jareth smirked slightly and leaned back. "Toby, do you really believe Elban at this time? He is upset. He is emotional. And I am sure he believes everything he says right now, but the truth is that he has a bad habit of exaggerating when he is in this mood."

"It is not my business," Toby said stoically, "I am not going to get involved."

"You really will not tell me anything about that conversation?"

Toby stayed silent and drummed his fingers casually on the arm of the chair.

"Fine. Consider the topic closed. I will have to think of something later. The second thing I want to discuss with you is _our_ little situation."

The mortal froze, a look of incredulous horror on his face. Toby had not been expecting to hear Jareth bring that up. True, there were a few things he would like to say in theory but he had resigned himself for the past three days to never speaking of them out loud. It was a sensitive matter. And neither of them was particularly sensitive.

"Breathe, brat, you are turning blue."

Toby gulped in a breath and spluttered as his lungs made their presence felt. He coughed, taking a moment to hide his face in his hands. But the moment passed all too soon and he had to look back up. It was a vulnerable situation to be in. He could not see the Goblin King's face. He had no real reference to judge the effect of whatever he said. And though his hearing and his perceptions seemed to be working overtime, it was not the same as his sight. He didn't like this.

"No matter what we would like to be doing for the rest of the year," Jareth said softly, "The fact is that you are still twenty-five and I am still your educator. We need to sort out what we are going to do about that."

"We could continue as we are doing now," Toby suggested hopefully, "We talk and I will not pretend that your opinions do not interest me. But in general if we leave each other well alone, no harm…"

"No."

"But…"

"No. I have a duty. I mean to fulfil it."

Toby took a deep breath- "I am a fully grown adult. There might be a lot you can teach me but I doubt I will ever be in a position to rule the Underground."

"You might, you know. When this year is over and you take your citizenship, you might find that politics is a field you enjoy." He noted the look of indecision on that honest face and sighed. "Toby, this is not any promise that I made before a crowd of my people. This is the promise I made to your sister."

"To Sarah?"

"I promised I would make sure you were taken care of. Part of that is to make sure you are mentally and emotionally equipped to deal with anything in this world. Responsible as you are, I think you will find that you have been very sheltered in my mother's care. Not her fault; she does not have the energy or the contacts to raise another child in our society. But I do. I can offer you a lot."

Toby nodded slowly. "I suppose so." He wracked his brains for just a minute, before coming to an instinctive decision. "So what do you expect from me in return?"

"Nothing."

"Not true. I do not know you, Jareth, but I know enough about you to know that you never do something for nothing. You have been very nice to me for the past three days, possibly to make it impossible for me to refuse you this. Now what do you want?"

When the Goblin King answered, it was in pure curiosity, with no hint of anger or pain."What do you think I want?"

"I have no idea," the mortal protested, emphasizing his lack of answers with his hands, "I have nothing that I see you in need of. But then I have never pretended to know your mind."

"And you think I have some devious plan that involves you?"

Toby shrugged. "The term 'devious' was yours, not mine. I simply know you always have a plan."

How interesting, the Goblin King noted, and not entirely unfounded. He generally _did_ always have a plan. And in this case, he had a definite plan. But not one that he thought Toby would ever guess. He weighed his options and selected one path, shutting his eyes instantly to any consideration for the other path. The half-truth would do for the moment. "I admit you have a point- I like everything to have a place in my life. But you will learn that not everything makes its importance known straight away. I think you will be one of those things. And I would like us to establish a relationship in which we can at least be mutually helpful if not friendly."

Toby turned that over in his mind. "This will work both ways," he pointed out.

"I _am_ going to educate you, Toby. You have the protection of my name and my position. You cannot discount that."

"No." Something about the way he said it, made the Goblin King think that Toby found that detail ironic. "I am the Goblin King's ward. That is, unfortunately, not enough. You did blind me, you know."

"You were as much to blame for your injury as I am and you know it. We shall not argue about that now." Jareth stood up and went to absently drop some papers into a box on the shelves around the room. When he turned back, Toby was standing as well, blue eyes narrowed and blinking as they tried to _see_ him. "Fair enough. My protection is not enough. You have my experience at your command?"

"No. I have no interest in laws and in playing people one against the other to gain results. That is too deadly a game for me."

Jareth laughed and then walked past, patting his ward on the shoulder as he passed him. He pulled the curtains open and leaned out the window for a minute, taking a second to check on his kingdom before coming back to his mind and to the purpose at hand. "What is it you want, then?"

"Your respect," Toby said instantly, "And I would like to keep that offer of help open for when I really need it."

"You want my respect? You have to earn it. It does not come free."

"I know. But is there, in all seriousness, anything I have actively done to you to make you dislike me?"

Something rang in those words, enough so that Jareth narrowed his eyes in thought. "Are you referring to something in particular?"

"I have spies," Toby admitted humorously, "One of whom informed me of a recent conversation with the Lady Pandora. I am quite aware that I am not the type of person you like, but I hardly think that I have done anything to be _dis_liked! And with you I find that dislike equals to disrespect. I can put aside your dislike, but I will not accept disrespect."

Odder and odder. Jareth was beginning to actuallymake an effort to _think _for the conversation. Toby was bringing up odd angles all the time and his thoughts had to stretch just a little to arrange his words effectively. "Deal. I will attempt to make my peace with you. If you meet me halfway? We agreed on equal responsibility at the start of this surreal year."

"We will continue to share that responsibility," Toby agreed, holding out his hand.

Jareth shook it amiably and couldn't resist a smile. Toby was so serious, so earnest. The Goblin King made such deals with a twist of the lips and a swallowed laugh. Every deal had a loophole and he almost always managed to extract what he needed without much exertion on his part. Toby would be easier than most, but strangely enjoyable. That neat gravity made Jareth want to see him lose his composure again. Just for a while. Just enough to see him lose his breath and stare with wide-open blue eyes. Perhaps even a little desperate? Perhaps.

"So tell me" Jareth teased gently, "Do you like _me_?"

Toby grinned back and bobbed his head. "You have your charms. But I think you know that."

"Ah! Charms! It explains the fiasco with Ezreeka." Jareth was not just being flippant. He still could not figure out why exactly Toby had gotten so angry.

Toby bit his lip, looking a little embarrassed, and then he squared his shoulder and tilted his chin defiantly. "Something like that, yes. I, er, _am_ a little possessive." He seemed to wrestle with something for a minute and then said, "I will not apologize for that, Jareth. I will do it again if I need to. I really don't care how good she is. Get rid of her."

Jareth looked momentarily startled. Not unnaturally so- no one had ever asked him to give up any aspect of his life before. And Ezreeka was a convenience that he had weighed and found permissible a long time ago. He was not about to give up his elf. He said so, noticing the words came out more pointed than he had intended.

But Toby did not react. He just shrugged, his face determined. "I will not share; neither my bed, nor my lover."

"I am not your _lover_," Jareth said cautiously, "We had sex. We did not make love."

Toby raised an eyebrow. "You see a distinction?" he asked.

Jareth's mouth snapped close as he directed an incredulous stare at the mortal. He noticed the firm set of Toby's jaw and the sober look in his eyes in a new light. But, and this was Jareth's essential nature, he saw the irony in the entire situation."Never have," he conceded, "So, I am to give up Ezreeka because you do not want her around? Even if we will never share a bed again?"

"For the rest of the year- yeah," Toby said shortly.

"Why is that?" For all his good humour, Jareth was quite serious about this. Enough that he forbore to step closer to his ward as his instincts prompted him to do.

Toby turned his face away for a heartbeat and looked back with a self-mocking grin. His fingers reached up to pinch his left earlobe, as he hadn't done since he'd been a child. "Call it the territorial instinct of the alpha male."

"I see. Very sure, aren't you."

Toby dropped his hand and waited with bated breath. Obviously he had said something suggestive because that rough voice was laughing at him again. "Very sure about what I can stand," Toby admitted, clearing his throat, "I know we are not in that kind of relationship, but if we ever sleep together again, I ask that you respect my place in your bed."

"Oh, I am quite certain you are sure about all that. But are you sure you are an alpha male?"

The Goblin King was hovering just out of reach now, hands clasped behind his back.

Toby growled and snatched out with his hand to that dark shape. He caught something soft and dragged it closer, and smiled to himself in triumph. Jareth was definitely radiating heat by now, a sure sign that he was contemplating something more along the lines of their previous physical closeness. Toby let his hand reach up to find the source of that warm breath panting so audibly close to him. The soft mouth was slick and invitingly open. Jareth made no move to protect himself or counteract Toby's aggression. He even seemed to prompt it, holding still and letting himself be touched.

Toby was not one to lose control. He really was not. He disliked acting solely on his urges more than anything else. He liked to decide things. But Jareth did not always. And Jareth was all but asking to be kissed senseless. So the mortal swallowed and leaned in as dangerously close as he dared.

"Stop playing your games."

"No games," the fae breathed, "Just an offer."

Toby let go. "Thank you, no."

The Goblin King sighed almost sadly and then nodded and straightened. "Ezreeka will not lose her job or her usual place in my household. But I will refrain from having her."

"Fair enough. Jareth, may I ask you a question?"

"Same rule as always, Toby- I may answer, I may not."

"What exactly are you?"

Amusement swept over the sharp-boned face, lighting the corners of that still parted mouth. "What I appear."

"Yes, well, you appear to be many people. To use a particularly Aboveground expression, are you top or bottom?"

"Both. And neither."

"You're laughing at me."

"With reason. That question was stupid."

"It was a legitimate question!" Toby frowned in some annoyance. "You really are laughing at me."

Jareth chuckled and raised a hand to adjust his collar. "Toby, my preferences have nothing to do with anything."

"Not that I would know," the mortal remarked, "We have yet to do anything that requires a top or a bottom."

Something about the way he said it made the Goblin King stall a minute, tapping one long forefinger against his chin as he pondered that. It was a valid point and Jareth had been avoiding it for a long time now. He had meant to discuss this soon. It looked as if Toby wasn't even aware that there was anything to discuss. "Toby, what do you think I am?" he answered instead, hands on his hips and sharp teeth peeping out in a wide smile.

Toby assessed him quickly in his mind, trying to piece together what little he knew about the male. "Top," he guessed. He remembered Luka's cheerful recitation of the time in an empty dining hall behind a curtain.

Jareth tossed his blond head. "Wrong."

Toby blinked. "_You_ are a bottom?" The incongruity shocked him. Though he didn't know why; there were plenty of stories about Jareth's strangely passive suppliance in bed.

"Wrong again."

"Then what are you?"

"Both. And neither."

Toby huffed in frustration and gave up. "If you did not want to answer the question you could have said so. Forget I asked."

"As you wish."

They sat down and talked of other inconsequential things for the rest of the morning, gradually doing what they always did- they pushed the unpleasantly personal distractions aside and made peace with safer topics.


	42. Reflection

The world moved in mysterious ways.

Toby was discovering things that he had never really thought about before. He was a pragmatic sort of person; he did not spend long moments of his time in contemplation of nature. The wind was either there or not. A bird was as a bird should be. A tree had always been a tree.

_Before_.

Before he had been blinded.

Strange things were beginning to class together- the taste of dry wine and the sharp prick of a thorn. Toby had never compared wine to vegetation before.

Yet his ears strained to catch the smallest slip of feet over the Castle's stone floors. Faint traces of a thousand living smells made his nose twitch in the Goblin City. The fermented taste of that crushed root had lingered on his tongue for two hours after he had left the healer's new hospital. And his skin was much too sensitive!

Toby was quite nervous about this new development. It upset him. Crowded places were far too overwhelming for this reason; they gave him headaches when he tried to concentrate on all the new bits of information that hammered at his brain.

So he escaped company as often as he could. He spent time with Serenity or with the other koerns. Mostly he spent time by himself in the Castle's extensive grounds, concentrated on forcing his eyes to read a book that Jervohl had kindly enlarged for him with her powerstone.

It was a restful place to be. And if his mind wandered away from the book to the rustling of the grass around him, he never let on. Listening to life had never been one of his hobbies before; he was not about to own to it now. Every so often, he would sternly take himself to task, say a few pithy things to himself and squint at the book again. Books were good. They were tangible. They were black and white and occasionally they had some disturbingly artistic illustrations.

He was just blinking at what appeared to be a cat-like creature with horns disappearing into a rain of sickle-shaped bits when the Lady Pandora hailed him cheerfully.

Toby attempted to get up.

She pushed him back down again.

"How are your eyes?" she asked gently, "Are they better?"

"A little." He put the book away and smiled fondly in her direction. She never really stopped being a mother.

"Good." The Lady was silent for a while. "I spoke with Elban a minute ago. Jareth is still pressing them to speak."

That was a new turn of events. "I thought Beran had returned to Fair Havens?"

"He came back this morning," Pandora replied ironically, "I _think_ he means to stay here this time."

Toby bit his lip to keep from laughing. It wasn't a humorous occasion to know the two were having such a hard time. It was obvious they were in love. But sometimes love was not enough. He said so, trying to keep as objective as he could.

"I cannot agree. Love is everything one needs."

They had had this argument before. "Love is not enough when you are starving in a shack at the edge of a barren wasteland."

"No one _asks_ you to stay in a shack at the edge of a barren wasteland," Pandora pointed out, "In the Aboveground, perhaps, I would agree with you. But in the Underground? No one starves in the Underground. Everybody in a five-mile radius will offer you support if you fall on hard times. And if the village or community in which you live cannot support you, the Goblin King will." She thought about that. "Or should."

Toby nodded and smiled again. "What about a love that is not acceptable?"

"We accept love as love. There is no barrier between races or genders. You know that firsthand. Even social classes or family ties do not count in love. Unless it is between two family members."

"I see. What if… Jervohl was to make her life with Gildred? Would people support them? Or would the prejudice against wrong-doers extend itself to her? If Jareth were not her brother, and Gildred were deposed, would the Goblin King step forward to lend his assistance?"

Pandora sighed and shook her head ruefully. "Who knows? If he can gain more power from Gildred by doing so, he might. He has no real finer feelings."

"I disagree." Toby startled even himself with that. From the blurry look on his foster mother's face, so was she. No one was really in the habit of defending Jareth. Demurring about a turn of phrase or an unseemly vehemence was normal, but not outright defence.

Toby patted the book and tried to think of how best to explain himself. Not that he needed to. He could clearly change the topic and Pandora would no doubt just dismiss the entire thing in her motherly way. But his conscience would give him havoc for leaving the matter so unsettled. And he really didn't like lying to the fae lady.

"I cannot agree with that," he elaborated bluntly.

Pandora raised an eyebrow and settled her skirts. "Why not? You have seen him. He treats everyone he meets on his or her usefulness to himself. I love my son dearly, but that is the truth. He is very matter-of-factly selfish."

"Not really. He is self-absorbed. I do not think he _means_ to be selfish."

"He is," Pandora repeated, shrugging her shoulders to emphasize the simplicity of her conviction. "He has never done anything for anyone else. Not unless it has benefited him in some way."

Toby tugged on his earlobe for a moment. "I wish I could explain," he sighed in exasperation, "I wish I could actually show you what I mean to say."

It was very bad business making a wish in the Underground. The Wishing Lands. The Goblin King looked up from Gonzo's explanation of why it was necessary to spend unnecessary amounts- in Jareth's opinion- on private bodyguards for the King and his immediate family. What with all the unrest and rumours…

Toby continued in the same agitated vein, not sure why he needed to get this said, but certain that his recently skewed vision of the world was to blame. So he explained things as best as he could, pointing out that Jareth was perhaps self-absorbed and aloof and a little power-hungry, but ultimately did know right from wrong and really, was it so bad for someone to twist things a little so that right could be of some practical benefit instead of just a moral decision?

Pandora stared. Those blue eyes were looking at her, wider than usual because the pupils were still badly dilated. Toby never used his hands when speaking in normal circumstances; he was now using them fluidly and continuously. He even- and Pandora was certain she was imagining this- looked flushed and distressed at having to do so.

"… though I can understand just how frustrating he can be. I still have not figured out why he wants me to meditate every morning," Toby finished. Then, overcome by embarrassment, he buried his head in his hands and let out a heartfelt groan.

The Goblin King was amused by the entire situation. He banished the crystal and stood up abruptly. "No bodyguards," he ordered, "Have my mother and my sister assigned two of the best warriors each; aside from that let it rest."

"But what about Mr. Williams?" Gonzo asked quickly, knowing his King well enough to know Jareth was about to vanish out of the study.

"I doubt he shall need much guarding," Jareth replied seriously, "It is not him they want." And then he vanished.

Gonzo huffed tiredly and rested his head against the back of the chair. It had been a trying morning. It always was when he had to pin Jareth in his study and force him to do a little work. No matter the delegation, the Goblin King's signature was always needed and Jareth never gave his signature unless he fully understood why. At least most of it had been rushed through this time. The dwarf huffed again and set to work planning the rest of the work ahead.

Pandora scowled at her son as he appeared, trying to tell him silently to go away while persuading Toby that hiding in his hands was not the best way to spend such a wonderful afternoon. But Jareth only shook his head and directed what looked to be a genuinely concerned glance at the mortal. Pandora let it go.

"Toby, would you please look up and speak to me?" she eventually pleaded.

"No."

"You will have to lift your head some time, dear. It might as well be now. Come along. We can talk about this in a reasonable manner," she offered.

Toby lifted his head and fixed a dryly accusing glare at her. "You have been talking to Dr. Beck again! Honestly! As if the solution to every problem may be reached by talking."

Pandora rolled her eyes. For just as instant she was tempted to flounce to her feet and leave Toby to wallow in whatever fit he had dug himself into. "Well, if the wisdom of my years is of no use to you…"

"No, no! I apologize, My Lady. I did not mean to denigrate you."

"Denigrate? Toby, does a young man your age really use words like that?"

"The young man does, if he is me," the mortal snorted, "The other fools can hang themselves on bad grammar for all I care."

Denigrate! Jareth shuddered just out of sight. Even in the Underground speech was not so formal. The first thing he had ever noticed about the blond was that damned stilted speech. And then that damned _formality_. And overall the general boring conventionality that clung to Toby like a cloud. He said the right things, he made the right gestures, and he wore the right clothes… the man never seemed to have any spark of life in him! Only, Jareth had thought he was improving- not quite so stiff or formal. Relaxed enough to have been open with his emotions and open with his opinions and in certain ways quite good company.

Jareth closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Things were becoming unnecessarily complicated.

Toby's ears were giving him trouble. He could see things, certainly, but not well enough that his other heightened awareness shut down. And he could distinctly hear vague sounds that were completely different to the other sounds he listening to day after day in this secluded little spot. He turned his head back slightly and said, "My Lady, you could have told me that he was standing right behind me."

The gamble paid off. Jareth made his way over to them and sat down, eyes fixed on Toby's face.

"Thank you," he said simply.

The mortal cocked his head in surprise and blinked blue eyes. "Whatever for? I have not done anything." And then intelligence asserted itself. "Oh. The, er… you heard everything?"

"A lot," Jareth admitted, "Enough. Mother, did you never teach our young friend that it is dangerous to make wishes in the Wishing Lands?"

Toby coughed and buried his face in his hands again.

Pandora giggled and got to her feet. "I am going to leave the two of you alone now," she asserted, "But please- for my sanity if for no other reason- do not have another fight. I really cannot survive another one. Do not fight; do not injure each other; do not, for the love of mercy, raise your hands to each other. Because if you do, so help me, I am still capable of _smacking_ the both of you!"

Her dire warning delivered, she proffered a kiss to both fully-grown males as any good mother did and wandered away to stick her nose into Elban's situation. She hoped both her sons would find a way to mend a few of the differences between them.

Toby squinted at Jareth and felt relieved at the look of general good humour on that face. Jareth's ill tempers usually made Toby retaliate. Strange, that; he kept himself in check with almost every other person.

The fae smirked and just watched the delightful ebb and flow of colour in Toby's face. It was good to see him react to something. Good to see his impulses had not died away! A brief comparison with another animated face from the same family and Jareth wondered just how anyone could ever freeze like that. How could one control one's impulses?

"I apologize if I said something out of line, Jareth."

The Goblin King almost groaned and fell to his knees begging heaven to intervene. "For the last time, will you stop apologizing?"

Toby lifted his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I was only attempting to…"

"Do you think you have said anything wrong?" Jareth demanded.

"Not really, but there might be certain…"

"Then rest assured that I will tell you if I feel insulted or misunderstood." The Goblin King sat back with a stern expression on his face and then expression melted away again and that smug smirk was back. "No one has ever really done that before."

"Defended you?" Toby asked. He wondered if that had been at the heart of the coldness- the belief that no one really bothered to think anything good of him.

"Oh no, not that! I do well enough in that department," Jareth laughed, "I meant tried genuinely to understand me. And then to explain it to my mother."

"Oh." Toby felt a little foolish. He had gotten carried away, obviously. And like Dr. Beck, the Goblin King had posed a fascinating enigma for him to study. Lately, he had begun to wonder if Jareth didn't just act as he did and let everyone else think what they liked. Very much like the irritating new world around him that assaulted his ears and tongue and skin and nose. They were there; if people wanted to really know them, they could. If no one asked, it was just the wind and the rain and the plants and the stones.

"You know, Toby, I have never considered you a perceptive man," Jareth ruminated, head cocked like an inquisitive animal, eyes bright in the sunlight, "And yet you seem to have quite a good grasp of human nature."

Jareth was _agreeing_ with his perception of him? Toby gulped and licked dry lips. What was he supposed to say to that? And why the hell was he so nervous!

"At the risk of sounding smug and condescending," this was said in all seriousness so Toby let it go, "you are right is a strange and convoluted way. But only partially."

"Glad to know," Toby finally remarked, "I thought you were busy this morning?"

"I was. Until a very interesting wish was made and drew my attention to this fine spot. When did you find it?"

"A long while ago," Toby evaded, "It is a close distance to the Castle so I do not need help getting here and back again. Why?"

"I just wondered. Alright: I am going to make an exception for you. I am going to explain the reason that I asked you to meditate every morning. Firstly, it was not a meditation; if anything, it was a period of reflection. Secondly, you were never meant to _do_ anything; you were meant to sit on the ground and just exist. I specified 'the ground' because it brings you closer to the earth and opens you up to another set of experiences. Is this making sense?"

"You wanted me to reflect on something and you wanted me to sit on cold, damp grass to do that." Toby didn't look particularly impressed. "What was I reflecting _on_! Not my numerous blessings in this land, please, or I will personally throttle you."

"Ah-ah-ah!" Jareth wagged a finger at him. "No threats. We are supposed to be behaving with civility."

Toby barked a harsh laugh and glared.

Jareth ceded reluctantly- "I was not asking you to reflect on your numerous blessings. Whatever those are. Why would I? And where did you even think up such an idea?"

"It would be a long story," Toby dismissed caustically, "Continue."

"Toby, do stop ordering me around. Unlike the goblins, I do not worship at anyone's feet." It was mildly said, but the sharp incisors were just a little pronounced in the smile and the eyes had grown dark and cold. Jareth meant every word in the fullest sense.

But Toby was not spineless, nor was he in the mood to be particularly meek. The thought uppermost in his mind was that _he_ did not worship at anyone's feet either, even if the person _was_ the Goblin King and the most powerful entity in the land. Jareth was just a male fae. Toby had never seen any reason to make an exception in Jareth's case.

"This conversation is done," the mortal said, rising to his feet and making to leave.

"Sit back down, Toby. We are not finished."

"I say we are."

"How confusing have you found all the new sensations?"

Toby paused in mid-step.

Jareth got up too and stopped just a few inches behind him. Close enough that his skin began to react to the mortal's closeness. Close enough that he was sure the hairs on the back of Toby's neck would begin to prickle. "The world can be a frightening place without sight, yes. But your other senses must have awoken- your hearing, your sense of smell… Tell me truthfully- because you are an honest man- does the magic not leave you breathless at times?"

Toby shook his head but said nothing. 

"Never once?" Jareth asked, frowning a little. This was worse than he had thought. He had expected the mortal's sharp intelligence would adapt much quicker than this. It almost made him pity the man.

"Never once," Toby said dully.

"Then I am sorry for you." The words were compassionately said. "Perhaps I misjudged."

"Misjudged what? That I would _like_ not being able to see my way? Jareth, I am not some project you can experiment on! I lost my sight and I faced never getting it back. You have never once apologized for it and you now have the gall to stand there and tell me that you thought in your egotistical way that this would all be for the best. Are you insane or do you really never just take the time to think of another person's point of view?"

Jareth was flustered. He had expected an attack, but not a defeated resignation that sounded more like a monologue than an actual query. He had pushed too far. Again! He was doing this much too often lately and it scared him. His abilities were better than this! "It was partly your fault," he began.

"And I accepted the blame for it," Toby interrupted relentlessly, "But the proper thing to do would be to apologize for your part in this whole mess. I provoked you; I freely admit that. If I have not said it before I am sorry for calling you a whore or for assuming that I had any right to pass judgement on you. But I never caused you lasting harm and you almost blinded me."

Even the air seemed to grow silent.

"You should know how this feels, Jareth," Toby added, "You almost lost your vision too."

"It was an accident," Jareth snapped, "And I was sensible enough to see my part in it. Had I behaved differently, my eyes would be fine."

Toby turned around then, folding his arms across his chest and his eyes narrowed to try to watch the Goblin King's face. He grinned ruefully, hearing the illogic that Jareth probably wouldn't admit to. "It was the worst fight you ever had with your brother. You were forty-two and Dieter accused you of beginning a rumour about the love of his life. He threw a viper at you and the viper spat poison into your eye. You would have lost both if Luka had not yanked it off you by the tail."

"Is that what your boyfriend told you?" Jareth said bitterly.

"Yes."

"You believe him." It was a statement of fact. Jareth was not going to explain himself. Let the legends and rumours continue; they never bothered him.

"No. Luka has lied to me in the past and I will not believe another word out of his mouth until he returns to me and shows me that I can trust him again."

Jareth looked at him. There was no question in Toby's mind that the other fae would return, or that the other fae would return to _him_. It was a perfect example of that faith in the good of all living beings. Perfectly stupid, but Toby was young and ever so slightly idealistic. Jareth had already heard that belief used on _his_ tarnished persona and if Toby could manage to humanize _him_ from the garbage whispered behind his back, then Luka would pose no problem on that score. Luka was to be a hero, then.

But Jareth was also a honest person in his own way, when he saw that lying would not work. And Luka had managed to surround himself with lies to the extent that Toby might prove a hazard when and if the traveller returned to his homeland.

"The true story," the Goblin King said, "Is much simpler. Dieter was in love. The mermaid he loved was a tart and shallow with it. If she cared for him, it was more than I could say of her. Elban, ever the peacemaker, tried to tell him very carefully to wait before declaring his intentions for the whole world to hear. I told him flatly she was a money-grabbing little water snake. We argued. We came to blows. He hit me and unfortunately he damaged my eye. There was no viper. There was no poison. Luka would not have interfered for love or money and Elban knew us better than to do so."

"That is the whole story?" Toby demanded.

"The whole story."

"Your left eye is discoloured and slightly awkward because of your brother's fist?"

"We were argumentative," Jareth shrugged, "My entire family is. To this day I could walk into my home and present my mother with any number of suggestions for her health and well-being, most of which she knows she needs, and she will still fight me to the bitter end. Jervohl and I both have a temper like the Lady herself."

Toby smiled at the dark sally, turning things over in his mind. It pained him that he felt no surprise at hearing Luka had lied to him. He had not thought about his boyfriend with any kind of true emotion for days. It had just… melted away in the happenings. "Thank you for telling me," he sighed.

Jareth laughed, a loud peal of laughter that wasn't particularly encouraging. "Don't thank me just yet," he chuckled, "I have some more news for you."

He took the glove from his left hand and summoned a crystal, flicked it away and then summoned the crystal again. This time he took it from the air and let it dissolve in his hand, leaving behind a sheet of heavy cream paper. He lifted it to Toby's gaze. "I recently received some very disturbing news, Toby. Sit down if you would like."

"I would prefer to stand." Toby could not see very much more than colours and blurred shapes, but whatever he could see was boding no good. He preferred keeping his height advantage; it intimidated people into keeping their distance.

"As you like. This is from Merilin. The elf I recently met with on account of Madigh's interest in Jervohl. Do you remember? Good. He writes very two weeks, usually with little or no new information. Until this." He held up the paper again and watched Toby's hand twitch. "Luka has taken it upon himself to be of assistance to Madigh."

Toby did falter. The stern mask of blankness broke for just a second to pure disbelief and then horror before he wrested it back into place. He did not go weak in the knees and he did not sway on his feet. What he did do was clench his fist and swallow the urge to demand to see the letter. Merilin had to be lying. The elf disliked him- the feeling was mutual- and perhaps Luka might be a little silly at time, but he would never do something _this_ stupid? Luka would indeed do something this stupid. If he felt it justified. If he felt slighted. If he wanted to appease his hurt pride. And he _would_ think Jareth was responsible because that was the way Luke thought!

"You really are telling me the truth," Toby asked, "If I find out that this has all been a lie then I will make you pay."

Jareth once more wished that Sarah were there. She likely would have protested a lot and then talked very fast as she coddled her baby brother- never mind he was six foot three and broad with it- and gotten through the situation a lot better than the Goblin King ever could. Toby would not have suspected Sarah of subterfuge in the first place; so likely she would have had to defend her mate from… what was he thinking! He was not Sarah's mate! She was _dead_, for pity's sake! He had watched her die and watched her been buried and why the hell was he standing still and living in a dream?

"It is true," he acknowledged, "I waited a week to test its validity. Luka never went near the Sea. He went to Gildred's lands."

Toby's jaw tightened. He did not appreciate looking like a weak fool. "Does Gildred know?"

"About a plan to have Jervohl closely monitored in the event of perhaps killing or injuring her in order to create upheaval in the political system of the Underground?" Jareth sounded amused. "Not at all. If I am any judge of the matter, Gildred would have anyone threatening Jervohl torn limb from limb and then burned until their bones blacked. He loves her, the fool. I have no idea why."

"He does?" Toby was startled by that.

"Yes, he does," Jareth retorted, "He is due to arrive at the Castle next week to tell her so himself. If I can have Elban and Beran sorted by then, it is to be hoped that the next six months will proceed for us uninterrupted. Which is a good thing, because I am growing very tired of this constant need of yours to take offence to everything I say!"

"I do not take offence to everything you say."

Jareth reminded him of twenty petty arguments in the last six months with just a look. He did not need to say anything. Toby was honest to himself even and he could remember them all perfectly well. The mortal flushed a little and growled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"I said- you've made your point. May I go now?"

"No. As I said, we are not done yet."

Toby raised an eyebrow and made a conscious decision in his mind to stay. Staying because he was ordered to would only serve to send him stalking in the opposite direction. Jareth quite simply had that effect on him. "Yes, Sire. If there is anything I can do."

Jareth gave up. He waved a dismissive hand and flopped down on the ground. "Why do I bother?" he said out loud.

Toby sat down and looked enquiringly at him with all the innocence of a newborn lamb.

For the first time Jareth did not trust that look. It had all the markings of a wolf in sheep's clothing. "The only reason I asked you to reflect in the grounds every morning is so that your stifled senses could be opened up. Admittedly, that is an exercise only taught for the year in which you are converting, but the idea is the same. Seeing is not always experiencing. Otherwise, it is just a vision. Dreams are visions. They are not reality. And yet you see them. The difference between a dream fruit and a real fruit is the taste and the smell of it, the feel of it sliding down your throat. "

Toby looked down at his hands.

"You, brat, are so locked away in some futile attempt to play a particular role that you never stop to experience things as a normal human being." Jareth was being severe. But it was the truth and he saw no reason to sugarcoat it. "I do not know what made you that way. Talk to Dr. Beck if you need to. Personally I detest the man and can quite understand why his patient wished him to the Underground, but you needed to bring yourself back to the world." His lips twitched. "Clearly it has not worked."

Toby grinned back and shook his head. "Why did you not just say all this before?"

"It is more dramatic when someone discovers it for himself," Jareth allowed, "The person suddenly jerks upright and stares wildly around. Mostly, they fall over in hysterical laughter and then burst into tears. I find it funny."

"So you set me up for _my_ good and _your_ amusement," Toby surmised.

"Really, is it so bad for someone to twist things a little so that right can be of some practical purpose instead of just a moral decision?" Jareth pointed out.

Toby laughed at hearing his own excuses on Jareth's behalf echoed back at him. "You are a bad influence," he said severely.

"Toby, I am no influence at all," Jareth promised you, "You see me as you want to see me."

The mortal quietened down and this time it was his turn to direct a searching stare all over the slender figure sitting comfortably slumped before him, chin cupped in one delicate hand and eyes as serious as the smirk was humorous. "You really mean that, do you not?"

His only answer was a sparkling smile full of unspoken promises. Simply because Jareth was _like_ that. He was a flirt and he loved a good joke and he loved knowing things other people didn't. And he acted like that because he was a tease and he loved people knowing that he knew. Simple. Or complex. Jareth was nothing like he was and everything as he seemed and quite possibly a range of other people that Toby would never meet. Too many shades of too many people to count; contained in one pretty body.

Oh yes, that was what Jareth reminded him of- the Underground. And not the people, but the wild, untamed, ever-changing flamboyance of the Underground.

Toby couldn't help smiling at his dizzy imagination taking off. Nothing wrong with a little imaginative thinking, was there? Besides, the Goblin King had openly expressed concern that the mortal was too stodgy. Toby was duty bound to do something about that.


	43. Out Of The Way

Elban was in the grip of a momentous decision- he was tired. Very tired. And Jareth kept pestering him! Jervohl was a lot better to talk to but she seemed to be staring out of windows a lot more than usual. Toby was no real help; the man had stars in his eyes, or so Elban was convinced.

"Bloody romantic lot," he grumbled, sitting in the window seat of an empty room just to have some time on his own, "Cannot get away from it. It _follows_ you."

He had lost track of time a long while ago to judge by the contents- or lack thereof- of his stomach. It growled very loudly at him, obviously annoyed by its ill treatment. Elban studiously ignored it.

Someone knocked at the door and he stayed silent, hoping the person would go away. He knew who it was in any case. He had invited Beran to join him.

The door opened so quietly he almost missed it.

"Elban?"

"Shut the door if you are coming in," the sprite asked.

Beran tiptoed in for no reason that he could discern and shut the door. He then proceeded to tiptoe halfway across the room and wait. He would do anything, say anything… but he held his breath, fearing to drive his lover even further away.

Dark eyes glanced over him for a moment and then Elban was looking out of the window again. "You really have no idea why I left, do you?"

"If I made you unhappy, I am so very sorry. I love you. Please come home."

"Alright."

Beran blinked and momentarily wondered if he should sit down for this conversation. He couldn't possibly have just heard what he thought he had. "Excuse me?"

Elban hopped out of the seat and stretched. "I just agreed to go back." He sounded defeated. "If you will have me?"

"Of course! I-I mean I would love you to come back. I only… I'm a little surprised." Beran sat down and nervously pulled on his forefinger. "You left so suddenly, not even telling me where you were, and then you refused to talk to me for days. Is something wrong?"

"No. I was upset about something. I'm not any more."

Elban was watching him with dull eyes, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped loosely around himself. He looked almost ill. But it wasn't an illness, surely. Elban slept a lot when he got ill. Beran remembered that. He also remembered where he had seen such an expression before. Suffice it to say, the last time Beran had seen any living creature wear that expression, the koern had died the next month of no apparent reason. That was the most terrifying thought he had yet had.

"You were upset enough to leave," Beran protested, "Why come back now?"

"Don't you want me back?" The question was so tiny it almost faded before it slipped out of his mouth.

"Yes! I do. I never wanted you to leave. Oh hell! Come here, my lovely. Sit down." Pulling him down to a seat and wincing when Elban didn't even react to his touch. Hesitantly putting up a hand to touch that beloved face. "Tell me what worries you."

"Nothing."

"Not possible, my lovely."

"Beran, would you let this be? It was something stupid and I made a fool out of myself. I don't want to talk about it."

"We have to. You have to tell me why you left. You owe me that."

Finally, finally, those dark eyes sparked, but not with relief or with love or any other of a hundred wonderful emotions. Anger blazed like a furnace so bright that Beran drew back unconsciously.

"I owe you nothing," Elban bit out, punctuating the words with a sharp poke to the dwarf's chest.

"Elban…"

The fire died as suddenly as it had flamed. "Never mind. I just need to sleep. Can we go home now, Beran?"

The dwarf was staring at him, hoping for some clue. Whatever he had hoped to hear when the goblin had told him where to go, this was not it. He had hoped for so long, waited for so many days to be to forgiven. But he never had been. Elban had not forgiven him. He had inexplicably changed his mind, but he had not forgiven him. Elban would not just forget something that had hurt him so badly! Beran could not let this disappear so easily. He would not, not when it stifled his lover so much.

"Elban, please. Tell me what I did wrong? Let me apologize to you."

A brief glow of panic. "It isn't necessary.

Once upon a time, Elban would have called him 'love'. He would have smiled and shrugged and even if the hurt was still in his eyes, he would have cheerfully made the effort to meet Beran halfway. This was complete surrender and it puzzled Beran no end. Elban did not surrender. His nature was such that he bent when ill winds blew; he never broke.

"It is to me. Tell me?"

The forest sprite looked out the window again. He didn't look back. Indeed, he looked as though he were mentally preparing himself to say something he would rather not think about. "I know about that woman."

Again, Beran was surprised. "What woman?"

"The one you… well, I do not believe you love her, but I know you…" He couldn't say it. Elban hated himself for it but he couldn't bring himself to say the actual words. And what was he to call it? Sleeping together? That implied an almost-innocence that burned a bitterness on his tongue. Having sex? That sounded so clinical, so medically precise. Not at all like the hot, damp, passionate act that Elban really referred to. Making love? No. The sprite was vehemently denying that to himself. "I understand that it happens after a certain period of time, so I do not grudge you someone new. There are certain things I cannot do in any case and this way is probably better. I just need some time to get used to it."

Beran could barely gather enough breath to speak. "Are you," he demanded, "Sitting there and admitting to thinking that I would ever _cheat_ on you?" He gave the word 'cheat' the disgust that it deserved. "_That_ was why you left?"

"I saw you talking…"

"With a _woman_, no less!" Gone was the breathlessness and in its place was relief-fuelled adrenaline. "That was one of the humans! She was thinking of becoming a forest sprite and came to formally ask my permission to approach you. It seems Jareth thought I might get jealous if he just sent her over."

"You spoke to her for three days!" Elban protested, some of the ice in his face melting. "And I _know_ she was a human! I assumed you got curious."

"I have nothing against humans," Beran insisted robustly, "Or women. Very fond of them, in fact. But why in the hell would I take a body too soft, too rounded, and much too large when I already have the perfect lover in my bed? For _life_! You must think me an idiot!"

"No, I… the perfect lover?" And just like that- Elban swung from his original stillness to shyly fishing for compliments. "That good?"

"Better," Beran said fervently, "Much, much better." He picked up a slender hand and kissed the back before turning it over and pressing a deep kiss to the palm. "The best there ever could be for me. Look at me, my lovely. I would never, nor will ever, cheat on you."

"Never?"

"Never. At least, not without your permission first."

The forest sprite glared at him and the last of the ice melted. The mobile face with its pointed chin and fine eyes was alive again and the slight irritation in those dark eyes were tempered by tenderness and- Beran dared hope- just a little bit of forgiveness.

It left the dwarf shaken to think that he might not have pressed the issue. Elban would have continued to think that he was neglected and put aside. And things would have finally exploded in their faces. Elban would have torn himself apart under such a burden.

"Never do something like that again," the dwarf asked, "Please tell me, if I ever do anything to upset you. You know how thick I can be. This head is not big for nothing."

"I think it is a very sweet head."

"You are just a little prejudiced, my lovely."

"Want to go tell Jareth the good news?" Elban laughed, getting up and offering his hand, "Poor dear. He has been biting down the urge to kick us both out for the past three days. I could almost hear his teeth grind every time I refused to talk to you."

Beran gave him a peculiar look as he stood up.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Elban frowned suddenly, hoping this burst of sunshine had not just evaporated out of the air. "What is it? Have I said something?"

Beran shrugged. But Elban looked worried, so he gently patted the hand still in his and said, "Now you know how I feel sometimes."

Elban's frown deepened. And then it cleared to the most meltingly horrified expression. "You still believe that? With _Jareth_? Never! I swear to you- never! Not least of which is that I have no interest in him like that. It would ruin any kind of hold I have on him."

Beran was giving him that odd look again.

"What?"

"Elban, you tell me that you have no interest in bedding him. I believe that. But he occupies your attention to a large degree. If anything new happens, your immediate response is to talk to Jareth. If you feel upset or elated, you want to tell him or write to him or have him know in some way. You speak about him all the time. You seem to think about him all the time. I believe all of this is purely platonic, but I can't help but feel envious. He holds a big part of you."

"Do you think he will seduce me?" Elban laughed, looking very wicked for a moment. He leaned down and whispered, "He already tried. I knocked him flat on his much-admired arse."

Beran couldn't help laughing as well. It sounded funny in Elban's whimsically musical voice. And the sprite sounded so helplessly irreverent. People spoke about Jareth in one of three ways: either as a kind of God, or as a kind of Demon, or as something Otherworldly that had to be minutely analysed. Elban talked of him as a person.

Elban uncannily nodded his head as he straightened up. "He eats and drinks and sleeps as any other living being, you know. There really is nothing much to be afraid of."

"How do you do it?" Beran demanded, "The entire Underground quivers at his every command and yet you survived being his closest friend for over a hundred years."

Elban's grin widened. "Jareth is special simply because he changes so fluidly from one person to the other. I gave up any _real_ attempt to understand him a long time ago. The point is to meet him as yourself. Sensibly, of course, but not letting him walk all over you. He can be very charming when he chooses. And in his own way, he is loyal to those he loves."

"He loves you."

"Think of it, love- we started out as three children who did everything together. I practically _lived_ in his house. The Lady Pandora was my second mother, Lord Galen my father. Dieter and Jareth were my brothers are near as circumstance could make us. Then there were four of us, discovering life together. We grew closer. And then Jareth got rid of Luka and Dieter died. I am the only one left."

"I still cannot believe that Luka was a part of your group," Beran argued, "That sounds unreasonable."

"I _should_ say that he tagged along and we let him. All the really good discussions were held in the Lady's palace, where Luka was never often invited." Elban shuddered. "He was always a little suspect to me."

Beran nodded and scowled. "He is still interfering in my affairs. That piece of land his elder brother gave him care of? He has just written to me once again disputing the borders. He aims to take three acres away from me! Three! Of my best pastures."

Elban rolled his eyes. "Yes, love," he said dutifully.

Beran remembered a certain talk he had had with three very determined people just the day before. Jareth had cornered him in the throne room and given him a short lecture on how intelligent people with fully functioning brains could not be kept cooped up in a house with only poetry as a hobby. Jervohl had cornered him in the Reception Hall just outside the Throne Room and told him severely that he needed to stop treating Elban like spun glass because it would only ruin whatever trust the forest sprite placed in him. Toby had bumped into him in a corridor before dinner that day and awkwardly offered the suggestion that perhaps he should think about giving Elban a specific place in his home, just so that Elban would feel needed and less of a pet.

"You know," the dwarf pondered out loud, "We need to think about revising that bad habit you have of doing nothing all day." He got whacked on the arm. "Ow!"

"That was a warning," Elban growled

"Seriously, my lovely, I never thought about how bored you must be all day. I never really thought about it from your point of view."

"No. Because you and your family automatically assumed that you would marry a female to carry on your family name and keep your house. I'm just the wrong gender."

"I like your gender," Beran grinned, "It feels… very nice."

"I should hope so! Perfect lover, indeed! What kind of trite rubbish was all that?"

"Ah, nothing but the truth for you, my lovely, nothing but the absolute truth." Beran squeezed lightly on those fingers as they walked in a fairly companiable manner. "Do you think Jareth will contain his glee? He was almost begging me to resolve this quickly."

"Jareth?" Elban giggled a little and flicked his wrist to feel the silver bracelet jingle on his wrist. "I think Jareth will be a little busy these days."

"You have a look I distrust. It means you are gloating. Why are you gloating?"

"I think our Goblin King has set himself up for a great, big tumble from his golden pedestal."

Beran pricked up his ears. "Really?"

"Oh yes," Elban assured him, "Our young Mr. Williams has stars in his eyes."


	44. Dream Reality

Author's Note: Geez! This thing is going longer than I ever thought it would! I swear, I have the final three chapters written out already and I keep having to number them further and further away because I write something else or get another angle in. A few- a very, very few- of the readers from the 'Bond of...' Series will recognize that bad habit. Anyway, hope everyone is okay and that this isn't getting too boring for anyone. It shouldn't be too long now.

Author's Note: Little piece of information: the title of this chapter- Dream Reality- comes from a phrase in a David Bowie song. For anyone interested, it's from the song 'Quicksand' from the Hunky Dory album. I think the song as a whole is too saccharine and sweet, but I love certain phrases in it. This was one of them.

* * *

"**I was looking for you."**

**He gazes at her but for some reason she seems much more fragile than he remembers, much more translucent. The light seems to shine right through her. "I was right here," he says, trying to keep himself from reaching out to take her arm. He doesn't want to break her.**

**She tips her head and smiles with that wicked mouth, all green shining eyes and dark hair. "Don't I get a kiss?" she teases, "No good morning hug even?"**

**He reaches forward, careful to distance himself just so. The sunlight is cold against his bare skin though it glows on hers and he shivers in the bed just enough that she frowns a little and grasps his fingers.**

"**Jareth? Are you okay? You don't look so good."**

"**I don't feel good."**

"**Oh?" She sits up and touches his forehead before trailing her fingers down his cheek. "Headaches again? You know, we should go Aboveground and get your eyes checked. They might be able to do something about that left one."**

"**My eye is fine."**

"**You get headaches," she says firmly, "You told me that yourself. It can't be good. Besides, maybe they can fix it."**

"**Sarah, forget about my eyes or my headaches. I do not have a headache. I just feel… drained."**

"**Drained? Why?"**

**Jareth shakes his head and shuts his eyes. He does not want to look at her. If he does he knows what he will see- a dream. A desire that was so desperate it turned into a way of life that he never really lets go of. But he does not want to let go. When he lets go of the dreams, what else will he have? He has let Sarah go three times- once when she refused him that first time, then after she rejected him the second time, and finally when she died. He let her go all three times. He could have kept her through deceit. By rights, she only won the right to make him give back the child. And he could have dragged her back to the Underground before she died. She did not need to wish, not really.**

**Feather-light kisses against his eyelids and his lips. He does not even realize there are tears slipping down his face until he feels her lips kiss them away. **

"**What's wrong, baby?" she croons, "Don't cry. Ssh! It's okay. I'll make it okay. Whatever it takes, I'll make it okay."**

**Oh, he has done a great job with this. His insane wish when she died- 'I wish to keep a part of her, just in my dreams'. He did not think he could get anything else. He had no memories, no mutual friends. All he had had was that burning need to be with her, to give her every wonder she desired and to perhaps see just a hint of love in her eyes. **

"**Jareth? Jareth, please stop. You're scaring me. I've never seen you like this. Please stop."**

**He opens his eyes and there she is, framed by the sun, with her face flushed and her eyes shining so brightly. But the green seems wrong. It seems… dead. Those eyes _should_ be dead! They should not be haunting his every moment. They should not constantly be in his head, marking him. **

"**Get away," he says, "Please, darling. I need you to not touch me. Please."**

**She looks so hurt, so confused. But she sits away and pushes her hair behind her ear, watching him with worry so clear on her face that he looks out the window just to keep his sanity. She should never look like that, not even in a dream. **

**He craves her, and it drains him, unlocking floodgates and mansion doors in his head so that his senses slip out to escape. But he is still in the dream, and dream and reality blend until he is trapped in some hell dimension and the only thing he knows is that he is sitting up, his head in his hands, dry sobbing because everything inside of him is flowing outwards in waves and leaving a burning shell behind. **

**Phantom fingers ghost over his hair but he draws away. He cannot _stand_ her touch, not now. Not this smoke-screen version of Sarah that cuts him to bleeding ribbons. He wants to love her, _needs_ to love her. He wants to wrap her in his arms and make love to her. But even if he could let himself succumb to that, he does not have it in him to do it. The hollow inside of him is growing, burning, scratching, itching, needling… his mind is freewheeling over the land so fast that he can taste the water of the lakes as he feels the earth crumble beneath his feet. **

**And just as suddenly his pulse picks up.**

Jareth sat up in bed with a gasp, his heart pounding and his skin freezing. He had to physically pull himself back into his head, but he couldn't. His mind wouldn't slide back into his skull, and he was still at that heightened sense of awareness that kept him stretched to bare breaking point.

He got hurriedly out of the bed and backed away, dragging a hand through his hair to loosen the sweat-damp clumps. He couldn't stop shivering. And his legs felt as if they would give way any second. There was no air in his lungs. The room was silent as a tomb, falling in on him with each breath and the shadows lengthened and reached out to grab him.

He couldn't breathe. It hurt too much.

He needed… he knew what he needed, but he wasn't up to it.

One of the males!

He frantically tried to get his frozen mind to work. Everyone would be asleep. And this was too important. He couldn't face an anonymous partner tonight. Not tonight. Not for this. Not with Sarah's green eyes in his mind. He couldn't do that, either to her or himself.

The smallest piece left… that last bit…

'… _not that we've done anything that requires either a top or a bottom…'_

Toby.

Jareth didn't even stop to think. He roused himself enough to get to the door and open it. The corridor stretched on forever and he could feel it all- a thousand feet on the stone, a thousand dreams behind every door, a million breathes in soft lungs. He moaned and clutched his head, the tears catching on his lashes as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other to reach a door not three rooms away.

It felt like the journey of a lifetime.

But he made it.

He pushed open the door and he might have let out a small wounded cry because Toby was awake instantly, blinking sleep from his blue eyes as he tried to see in the darkness. He probably couldn't see in any case but Jareth wasn't even aware of his own presence enough to remember such facts. He lurched forward and Toby was scrambling out of bed to pick him up off the floor and carry him back to the bed.

"Jareth? Are you ill? Does something hurt?"

Taking Toby's hand and pressing it wildly to his lips, aching against the rough skin. He guided it down his neck, over his chest, his eyes closed. He was overloading now, his entire body threatening to cave into the black hole left inside of him as everything rushed out. And all the fae could do was blindly follow his urges.

Toby didn't understand. His mind was still sluggish and he couldn't really see very well. That, and the vision of the Goblin King lying prone on his bed, head swaying from side to side on the pillow. It was a blurred vision but Toby could see just enough to make it out. He didn't even realize where his hand was being taken until it was pressed against a hard weight in loose sleeping trousers.

Jareth actually cried out and bucked, eyes snapping open.

Toby gasped too and snatched his hand away. He flipped on the lamp beside the table and in the flare of the oil Jareth's eyes were glowing at him, desperate and horribly sane. Horribly, terribly, sane.

"Toby." A whispered command, more than a plea. "Toby, I need this."

"You've made a mistake," Toby said firmly, "I do not want to do this."

"Please." Jareth's fingers tightened on the mortal's muscular forearm, "_Please_!"

Toby Williams stopped short and stared. The Goblin King was pleading? Not that it sounded like a plea, but beneath the staccato snapping, there was a very real desperation. And those eyes were so hurt! Was it possible to have eyes that bled tears?

It seemed it was, because Jareth turned his face away and dissolved back into silent crying, shuddering against the sheets as if his entire body was about to shake apart.

Toby was scared. This was not something he had ever handled before. But good sense existed in plenty and he was used to snapping out a quick decision to any problem at hand. He sat closer and gathered the Goblin King gently into his arms, cautiously beginning to rock. He remembered his mother doing this for him and he knew the Lady Pandora had nursed him so when he fell ill once as a child. True, Jareth was not ill, but Toby suspected it was more than just a raging erection. Only, it did look rather painful.

Jareth stifled the sobs against his neck, his emotions soothing at the care and the touch of another warm, familiar body. His physical condition was another matter. Immersing himself in chaos was not something Jareth had frequently done, and he had never done so without a strong focus. It was driving him mad.

He shifted against the warm weight against him and gulped, fluttering wet eyelashes open against a warm cheek. Lifting his head, looking straight at those blue eyes with the strangely contracted pupils in the yellow glow. Yellow turned to gold turned to gilt turned to ash. Warm breath and beating heart.

The smallest, tiniest, _safest_ piece of Sarah that he had left to him. And was that why he was here, in the man's bed, at dark midnight? Silently asking to be made himself again?

Yes.

But it wasn't Sarah's green eyes he was looking at. These eyes were blue, deep and beautiful in the lamplight. The plain face was openly worried, openly cautious, displaying everything there for the fae to read. A hard chest and Jareth couldn't resist raising a hand to rub circles against the soft hairs.

Toby kissed him. Jareth always maintained that Toby had kissed him first. Toby did; he surged forward and captured Jareth's mouth with his.

The fae melted. He whined deep in his throat and let himself be lowered back to the bed.

Toby slid his hand down and inside. The weirdest sensation of replaying that second night of his education lit in his mind before his fingers closed around burning flesh and started a quick, steady rhythm that made Jareth groan and tighten up instantly.

It didn't take very long before Toby swallowed a soft cry. He had the courtesy to caress gently before sitting back up and moving considerately away.

The Goblin King shifted restlessly on the bed and sighed, blinking lazily at the ceiling as his heart began to slow down. He could see Toby from his peripheral vision and told himself that release was enough. The mortal had done what he could. Jareth could not ask him for more than he could give.

"Better now?" The words popped out and Toby had a vague recollection of his birth mother saying them. It was a caring thing to say but the hell of it was that he _did_ care. It scared him witless to see Jareth collapse like that.

"Thank you."

Toby tipped his head a little. He reached his hand to the side without even turning his head and turned up the lamp a little more. Jareth blinked away from it but Toby's eyes followed him closer. "You are always welcome. Now, do you feel better?"

"Yes. Better. Thank you."

Toby laughed quietly, trying to ease the situation as he brushed back a sticky strand of hair from Jareth's brow. "Are you sure? That is the second time this night you've thanked me. I think that brings the total number to four. A fifty percent increase is very high."

Jareth managed a glimmer of a smile but he was more concerned with wondering how he was going to get up and leave. He was still so raw. The flow outwards had not stopped; the hollow inside him was still there. He would spend the day in bed, curled into a ball and waiting to heal. As of now, he couldn't move.

Toby was troubled by the lack of response. It would be understandable if Jareth were to go to sleep; orgasm usually had that effect on a male. But this… there was no afterglow, no sleepy satiation. Jareth was calmed, but that was no improvement. He seemed to be curling inwards, a fist curled tight into his abdomen and another pressed tight to his throat. He was even looking inwards, not completely aware of anything going on around him.

"Jareth?"

It came out in a soft whisper that sounded like it couldn't possibly be issuing from the throat of any living, breathing creature- "So empty. All of it. Just gone. So very empty."

"What is?" Toby had never heard about a tendency to speak in riddles. Jareth was evasive but never downright unintelligible.

"Inside." The fist pressed down tighter to the source of pain.

Toby put his hand over it and massaged the wrist. "Are you hurt? Does it hurt?"

Again those eyes startled him with perfect sanity. "The chaos drained me. I'm sorry; I should not be here. Give me a minute and I can… or perhaps if you call someone. The centaur, yes, who works in the stables." Jareth dredged up a picture of the centaur in question in his mind's eye and settled the matter with himself. Discretion was paramount at the Castle at the Centre of the Labyrinth and a little bit of gold almost smoothed things perfectly.

And anyway his was a murky reputation. What was one more story, one more legend? One more kink to add to his name?

Jareth propped himself up on his elbow and levered himself into some kind of sitting position. He felt like a newborn foal with no control of his limbs. They straddled uncomfortably and he didn't have it in him to focus himself any more. His control on himself was gone and he would have to put up with it.

Toby put a hand on his arm and eased him back down to the sheets. "Maybe you should lie still for a while. The shock is still wearing off." Jareth gave him a mildly inscrutable look. "I would feel better if I knew that you were safe."

The Goblin King sank back with a sigh and then dragged himself to the other side of the bed as Toby climbed in next to him. If he deluded himself hard enough, he could almost imagine that this was all a replay of those first few months of this twelve-month torment. Toby still slept on his side and Jareth on his. They shared the bed as polite people would share a house- each on one side and neither offering to invade.

Hysteria threatened at the word 'invade'. No, not invade, he pleaded silently, just to be temporarily filled. Where he didn't have to do it himself. All he had to do was close his eyes and focus on the steady pull and push, using it to hush all other activity until everything settled back into its rightful place.

"Would you like some water? There is…"

"Will you have sex with me?"

Toby's mouth shut with a snap and he could only stare. Jareth was looking at him, carefully neutral but something tensed and hurt in the way he moved. "Er, I think we should… talk. Not complicate matters further. Besides, if you were just ill…"

Something snapped in Jareth's brain- as the fae had known it would- and he pounced.

Toby was only aware of a sweeping wave of sensation. It was as if someone or something had crept under his skin and ignited his nerve-endings. He was not to know Jareth was weaving magic around him. But he did know that he was watching the Goblin King lift a reddened, swollen mouth before straddling him. He knew he was watching because he saw Jareth falter.

"Tell me to stop," the fae murmured, "I will. But for mercy's sake, let me have this. I need it."

"Why?" Toby couldn't believe it. They were now back to square one and asking the same questions, even with Jareth poised just above him and his body aching to do what it had not done for six months.

"The chaos takes everything I have," Jareth said, "It drains and takes and then takes more. It leaves nothing behind. I cannot fill my own skin."

The unspoken words were there as plain as daylight. Toby watched the golden light pool hollows against ribs and arms, darkening dark brows to soot black and beckoning his hands to the indented hipbones. He took a careful hold, feeling his partner's fragility on some strange level that was not overt.

He took careful hold and nodded and Jareth came down slowly, a strangled cry aching on his tongue as muscle gave way against the onslaught. Breaching and breaking and every cell in his body suddenly swivelled from the lush call of his lands to this sudden burst of pain and pressure. A burst of pain, a burst of adrenaline and then belatedly wishing the lubricant on to slick the rest of the way. Coming down as if from a great height to feel that wonderful sense of… it wasn't completion but it was a temporary sense of fulfilment.

Toby groaned and tightened his hold, scruples overcome with need. Even with his still limited eyesight Jareth looked a vision- fully impaled, his head thrown back and a vein pulsing in his long neck; golden and taunt and slender. Washed in light and flushed.

It wasn't sexual, not for Jareth. _That_ was obvious. The Goblin King was not even aroused. He was motivated by something entirely different, but Toby could not help but find the slow movement enticing. He gasped and clung tight and twisted his thumbs against the cup of Jareth's bone with the main desire to bruise him. To mark him. Just once. For perversity's sake. In the morning this would be forgotten. Thrown away on the memory garbage heap. But for now… for now he could allow his doubts to fall away and just revel in what was occurring.

A bed, a beautiful male, a tight grasp- what else could he possibly need?

It lasted a long time, almost as if the clocks were suspended and the world had forgotten this particular bedchamber. Jareth rose and fell, sighing softly, fixed on Toby with those disturbingly sane eyes and the face of someone at peace. Toby lost himself in the feel of it, in the sight and smell and sound of it. When he had burned the vision of the fae into his brain, he shut his eyes and methodically memorized the event with every sense.

He smelt warmth and musk and sweat and sheets and burning oil and the night air swirling into the room. He heard the steady rasp of flesh and the whisper of the sheets and the sounds of the animals in the Labyrinth beyond the City. He heard the stillness of the air and the whisper of the breeze and the nighttime silence that he always took for granted. He could even taste the air and the scent of sex placed a salty memory on the back of his throat that in the moment he allowed himself the hope of repeating. And he _felt_! Gods could he feel! It would be too much to consciously catalogue what he felt and so he simply imprinted them all in his mind and thrust up into welcome heat.

It ended far too soon. Jareth actually smiled as Toby arched up against him, before leaning forward to rest his back as the mortal got his breath back.

Time began again as the Goblin King finally lay down, resting his head on a strong shoulder as warm arms wrapped around him.

It would do. The slight burn remained and he focused upon it, anchoring himself down to his own body by that discomfort. Toby's strong hold helped him, gave him a sense of enclosure.

Toby looked down in time to see the little yawn and then a soft sigh as Jareth went to sleep. If he were a little more romantic, Toby might have likened that glimpse of innocence to a kitten. Since it was the Goblin King and the Goblin King was far more comparable to a viper, Toby did not allow himself to be romantic.

He readily admitted to himself that it had been a worryingly weird night, but not an unpleasant one. He had had sex. Both of them had been consenting adults. It had cured whatever had been wrong with his guardian. And now they were free to put it behind them and get on with their lives. Besides, he had been given a rare glimpse into just how the Kingship operated. It did not operate on paperwork and rationing; those could be delegated. Jareth's job was much more lonely, and much more taxing.

Unconsciously the mortal tightened his arms around the slender figure and pulled him closer. Jareth, smart fae that he was, had made sure to bring the covers with him when he settled down, so at least the both of them were warm.

It was… nice, Toby reflected, drifting off into sleep. No! It _had been_ nice. Yes. Yes, that was the way to say it.


	45. Gods Bless Humour!

Author's Note: A strange chapter, this one… hmmm… Tell me what you make of it. I like it, but then I did write it.

Author's Note 2: I will eventually get around to fixing this properly, but I recently re-read my chapters and was horrified to find that I described Toby's pupils as being dilated. **They were not dilated; they were constricted or contracted**. They were pinpricks because of too much light too close to his eyes. Not dilated! Dilated is what Jareth's left pupil (the damaged one) is like- open wide and bigger than the other.

-----------------------------------------------

Tending to a physically unwell Goblin King was not as hard as Toby had expected.

Jareth was a surprisingly good patient. He basically slept through everything.

Toby had woken up to find his guardian still deeply asleep in his bed. The initial denial and shock had faded in a second to utter exasperation and he had stared at the ceiling, too reluctant to move from his bed to get on with the rest of his day. He couldn't understand why he had been sucked into reacting the way he had.

And the male still breathing deeply at his side, head sharing his pillow and hand curled just under his back- Toby had had no clue how to treat him now.

He obviously knew how he would _like_ to treat him… but would that be the best decision?

The mortal had rolled his eyes and reminded himself that he was not a coward. In the privacy of his own thoughts, he admitted that he could not regret very much, no matter how much of a bad decision it was. Logically, it had been a bad decision to have anything to do with Jareth. But he could hardly have left the fae to stew in his own difficulties! Logically speaking, Toby should have left Jareth in his bed and considerately slept in another room. Even better, he should have roused the Castle and absolved himself from any responsibility… thereby putting the entire position of the Goblin Kings at risk and ruining whatever little trust had driven Jareth to him in the first place.

Toby might not quite _like_ Jareth, but he freely agreed that he never wanted to see him in that pain again. It was disgusting to think of anyone so unwell. And Jareth! Someone so blatantly flippant and independent- to see him stumble through the door and cry quietly into the pillow was to see the world turn the wrong way. Though the surreality had been just as strong when the upset gave way to sex.

It was all very puzzling.

Toby had eventually gotten up quietly to go to the bathroom andmade the choice not to make any decisions at all. It was all very well speculating like this, but a wise person he had never met had once written that reason could only come with a proper understanding of the facts. Toby understood goblins and dances and the day-to-day running of a household. He understood swords and weapons and the reason why no guard but the King's own was allowed to use gunpowder. He did _not_ understand the Goblin King or his personality.

He would just have to wait for Jareth to wake up to receive his cues. No doubt the Goblin King would be his normal dismissive self again. But the question remained as to whether to wake him or let him sleep.

Toby had stood by the bed and watched the pale chest rise and fall for a few minutes, trying to imagine and plan for every scenario in his head. He was prepared for Jareth to have another mad scheme in mind. He was prepared to have the Goblin King growl at him to cover his embarrassment. He was even prepared to find that Jareth thought it all highly amusing. Privately, Toby had hoped for the latter. It would mean the fae was once again the self-absorbed egomaniac that he knew.

It was all a game of dice and there had been no telling which way the wind would blow.

Then, naturally, Jareth had woken up and in his usual unpredictable way, had been so quietly deathlike that Toby had been at a brief loss for words. The Goblin King had looked around, blinked to clear his gaze and wiped at his mouth meditatively before tiredly running a hand through his hair. Then he had laid himself back down and stared at the wall with blind unhappiness.

There were no choices here. Toby had had no contingency plan and so he had trusted to his instincts. He made the note to himself that if Jareth ever questioned it, he could say the Goblin King had ordered him to dispense with rationale.

"Hello," he had said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "How do you feel?"

Jareth barely shifted as he drew a deep breath. "No longer drained," he had said.

Toby had not taken that as a good sign. Jareth was not upset, but he was not happy either. _That_ was patently obvious. He had hesitantly put his hand out. He had always thought it wise to treat Jareth like an untamed animal in a tricky situation. Jareth wouldn't hesitate to bite- metaphorically speaking- if he felt he wanted to. But he merely slid his eyes to catch Toby's blue gaze and then the fingers loosely touched a recently untangled strand of blond hair.

Picking it up, Toby had gently stroked, hoping it would bring back enough of that intimate connection to allow him to say what he was going to. "I cannot order you to do anything, nor do I have any idea what is best. But perhaps telling Her Ladyship would be a good idea?"

The eyes had shut completely. "No. She does not need to know this."

"Why not?" he had tested.

A pale shoulder had flexed and stiffened. "It is my problem and I will deal with it."

Weighing options, there was little that Toby could do, really. Going against the Goblin King's preferences was not something to take lightly. It was not his prerogative in any case. Thick fingers had dropped from the lock of hair to the tensed shoulder.

"Rest, then. No one will disturb you here."

The shoulder had not relaxed as he hoped it would and Toby had sighed and let go on his own initiative. Standing up, he had looked down with no little worry. Instincts had a bad habit of including actual emotions.

"Will you be alright? Do you need anything?"

"No."

Toby had nodded and left the room. He had shut the door quietly behind him and stifled an annoying urge to open it again to see whether Jareth had opened his eyes. He had- if only to humour these strange impulses that he was beginning to respond to- waited outside the door in case anything untoward happened. But Jareth seemed to go straight back to staring at the wall or sleeping and so he had left for the small morning room on the ground floor, mentally preparing a suitable story for any enquiries.

He met a goblin going in and smiled at the little creature, courteously holding the door while it struggled in with a dish of hot porridge. The Lady Pandora smiled and waved him to the table.

"Good morning, Toby. Sleep well, dear?"

"Quite well," he said, sitting down, "You?"

"Slept like a baby," she laughed, sipping at her tea, "Please taste the porridge. Eloise insisted that the cook learn and there was such a fuss because both Eloise and the cook decided they did not like each other."

Toby laughed along with her and served himself. He wasn't a big fan of the dish, but he would do anything to keep the peace. The little goblin bowed to the Lady and left.

"Where is everyone?" Pandora demanded, "Jareth is usually up by now."

Toby considered what to say. "I do not know if he is awake, My Lady. Why do you ask? Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, Toby, of course not. As if I would ever go to my delightful son if anything were wrong. He's likely to laugh in my face for it," Pandora said acidly, "I merely ask. I thought I heard footsteps in the corridor last night. I was wondering if he went on another of his nocturnal adventures."

Toby looked blankly at her. He was too unnerved by the thought that his room shared a wall with Jervohl and the young fae might have heard what went on in his bed.

Luckily, Pandora completely mistook his sudden freeze to be about something entirely different- "Jareth has always had the habit of roaming when and where he decides. Even as a child! The number of times his nurse complained that he was wandering the palace at midnightis too many to count. His father tried shouting at him for it and it did not work. He simply forgot at the prospect of sitting on the roof and did it again three nights later."

Toby had seen three portraits drawn of the family when it was young. With each new addition, a new portrait was commissioned. In the first portrait, a tow-headed little fae had stood at his father's knee, a surprisingly elated little smile hovering on his face. Watchful eyes and the way he put his hand on his mother's knee made Toby think the little boy was about to exclaim about some delight he had found. The second portrait was done eight years later. Jareth was older; his brother was six and smiling cheekily at him. The two looked as though they were sharing a joke as the two adults posed with proper aloofness. The third and last portrait was missing the tall, genial male who stood at the back, but it featured a little girl who sat in her mother's lap and stared unflinchingly out with grave green eyes. Dieter was a quieter ten, though the absent adult's good nature lurked in his thin face. Jareth took his father's place with an almost mocking poise, standing with typically boneless elegance as he looked airily to the left, where the viewer's gaze could not follow.

"Well, if you do not know where he is, then I certainly do not," Pandora interrupted, flinging her hands out in surrender, "I suppose he will show his face when he wants to."

Toby nodded and ate, turning the conversation to something a little less fraught with difficulty. The Lady did not seem to take notice and she followed his lead happily enough. She did look well and Toby took the opportunity to spend a little time with her, relieved to see the hollows disappear from her eyes and the sparkle come back. She even took his arm in an impromptu Open Court day for the castle staff, where the goblins with problems or grievances could feel free to speak of them. Jareth had no patience and Gonzo had little time. The poor things _were_ rowdy and _could_ get out of hand, but most didn't make trouble.

Toby obligingly listened while Pandora played secretary. A good pile of signed complaints was written up and Pandora sighed as she sat back in her seat.

"That should keep that wastrel busy for a while," she groaned, "Well, I suppose we cannot always have a good King. King Hayle was such a lovely person. Do you know that there was a large outcry when a second fae was selected to rule? And one so young and brash. Many thought Jareth had manipulated it somehow. His subsequent behaviour did not help matters."

Toby shuffled the papers together. "Did you think it?"

She scoffed ruefully at him. "I say a lot of uncomplimentary things. But Jareth was chosen for some obscure reason, even if I do not know what it is." She was silent for a moment as a goblin came back in for a minute to offer his services for anything they desired. "It makes me angry to see him waste his advantages so."

Toby nodded mutely and stood up. Papers in one hand and the Lady Pandora's hand on his other arm and they left the stateroom they had been using. Pandora left him at the study with an exclamation about some letters that she had to write and Toby put the letters down on the desk.

The photo caught his eye.

His eyesight was almost back to normal, apart from a tendency to blur when he strained it too much. He picked up the photograph and looked at it.

The face was familiar. The smile was not. The few memories of Sarah that he had were of a constant running argument. He remembered his mother trying to mediate, worried when Sarah didn't eat another meal or didn't speak for another evening. He remembered Sarah moping listlessly home from school and locking herself in her room. He remembered Sarah in her casket.

Toby put the photograph back down and shook his head. In the Underground, the story went that she had died of a broken heart. He couldn't see it himself. Did it make any sense to love someone and yet not tell them? Why bother with details when all that mattered was being with the person you wanted to be with?

Because, his more cold-blooded side reminded him, life is not always about love and an idealistic image of family. If anything, Sarah's death taught him that living for ideals would only kill him. He had his ideals, yes. Toby considered himself to be a closet idealist. He believed in honesty and truth and justice. He believed beauty was not just an outward appearance. He believed in equality of all races. He believed in living for the good of society. If love were not compatible to those ideals, then he would force himself to turn from it.

Luka.

The thought came unbidden to him. The fae had been so wonderful to him, but if the latest news was true... Toby had only been twenty, too tall and too awkward, tired of being treated like a child. Adults indulged him and the others his age were too frivolous. Pandora didn't seem to realize that she had raised him to be older than his years. Vinni drilled it into him that he needed to repay his benefactors with hard work and sensibility. Toby himself had always held to be too different from any other race around him.

The mortal sighed and shook his head. The world was tipping to the wrong side as far as he was concerned. His world had been crumbling from its comfortable foundation for six months. Was it really fair to blame Jareth for all of that?

Yes.

Toby didn't underestimate Jareth's capabilities. The Goblin King could have talked the Duke out of his pet project with little or no effort. He had instead chosen to agree because it suited his whim and fancy. The one concession Jareth had made to gentility had been to take on the task himself.

There was something there as to why Jareth was still trying to make this work. From all reports, Toby would not have expected his interest to last this long, even if Jareth did use a promise to Sarah as an excuse.

He left the study still pondering his situation. If it weren't for Jareth, he would be comfortably able to stay in the Lady's palace and live his routine existence. He would not be pulled and pushed and careened every which way by Jareth's weather-change flashes of inspiration.

The door to his room was still closed and Toby pushed it open quietly, an eyebrow rising to see Jareth sitting up in his bed, book in hand. Again, the Goblin King was unpredictable. Toby would have expected him to go back to his own room and go back to sleep.

"Good afternoon," he said peaceably.

Jareth didn't put the book away, but he lowered it politely. "Hello. Am I in your way?" He sounded distinctly chatty.

"No," Toby hastened to answer, lifting a hand to motion him to stay where he was, "Not at all. I came to see how you felt. Do you feel better?"

Jareth sat up straighter. "Ah, yes. I should probably apologize," he began slowly, "I did interrupt your night's sleep and I did put you in a dreadful situation." Mismatched eyes levelled with blue. "But I think we both got enough out of it that I do not have to."

The Goblin King picked up the book again and nodded with a small smirk.

Toby couldn't believe his ears. It couldn't be possible that Jareth was complaisantly suggesting that he had already returned the favour with sex! If he had had a pillow to hand he would have smothered the fae. And then he caught that innocent enquiry affixed to a private laugh and he settled for glowering.

Jareth tossed the book away and stretched before patting the bed beside him. "Come here."

That smirk was possibly a leer.

Toby baulked, all good sense rebelling.

"Go on," Jareth teased gently, "You were doing so well before. Take another chance."

The mortal sat down and waited.

Jareth only looked at him with hideously satisfied triumph and said, "There! Was that so hard? Have I eaten you alive ? Have I infected you with some deadly disease? Anyone would think I was contagious the way you avoid me!"

Toby had a headache. He was certain of that. He _couldn't_ sit there and follow such a convoluted and inane conversation without acquiring one. He nodded carefully and continued to wait.

Jareth didn't seem particularly needy of an intelligent response. He was talking animatedly, expressing exuberance for all the advantages of living by impulse. He spoke well and he spoke for a great length of time. At the end of that time, he collapsed laughing because Toby was just staring at him in horror-struck wonder.

Success, he considered it. He hadn't been that insensible of what Toby might think. The mortal was predictable and Jareth knew his type. At least Toby could still see a joke.

Jareth had never underestimated a quirky sense of humour as a viable method of easing a tense situation. He positively adored it at that exact moment.


	46. Privacy

Author's Note: An almost direct follow-on from the previous chapter, give or take a few sentences, still in Toby' room and it is approximately twenty minutes later.

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Toby was resigned to being disoriented. Jareth was still in his room, still in that peculiar mood between chatty and temperamental but at least had the decency to get dressed. Since the mortal was still fumbling away from his usual scruples, he decided that his safest option was to be straightforward. It was a hopelessly logical choice, but it was the best he could do in the circumstances. "Could you tell me what really happened?"

Jareth adjusted the gloves on his hands and pushed off the wall he was leaning against. "I would really rather not," he murmured.

Toby nodded and let that rest. "Alright. Now I demand that you tell me what happened."

A dark brow quirked. "Are you always this pushy?"

Toby considered that they were both passed the point where he took warning signals at face value. "Why did you come to _me_ last night?"

Jareth laughed and sat down in the window, one long leg dangling over the edge and both gloved hands gripping the sill before him.

Toby suppressed the urge to tell him to get down.

"You saw the condition I was in," the Goblin King reminded him, "Would you expect me to go to my mother's room? My sister's?"

"No, but there are others, surely? People that you usually go to for these things?"

"Oh yes. But I have sworn off Ezreeka, have I not?" The smile was almost evil. "You _did_ bring this on yourself."

The mortal made a strangled noise of protest and flipped his hand in disgust. There would obviously be no talking to Jareth in such a mood. Toby knew better than to try. He gave up and got up to leave.

"Alright." The leg swung back over and the fae had his back to that magnificent view. "If only to pre-empt another fight. I was not thinking. I needed relief and I needed it close. You were the closest."

"There is a bell-pull in your room," Toby pointed out, "Besides which you have the ability to be anywhere you like in the blink of an eye."

"I did say I was not thinking." Jareth had been quite pleasant before now, but his nature was easily changeable. He was beginning to sound ever so slightly annoyed and there was an audible snap in the words. "Forget last night, Toby. It is over!"

Had Toby not been concentrating on sorting out the disorder of his thoughts, he might have heard it. As it was, he was not even aware that the Goblin King was tapping restless fingertips on his knee in a prelude to throwing himself into a passion. Instead, he dug his grave even deeper- "Is it? What if it happens again?"

"Such confidence in yourself." Jareth was really working himself up now. "Such vanity." The mockery was growing unpleasant. The sharp tongue was making its presence felt after such a short moment of friendliness.

Toby flushed and looked down. If there was anything that he wasn't, it was vain. And while he didn't flatter himself that Jareth would make a plan to ever… "I simply do not like being a consolation prize," he argued doggedly, "Surely you can understand that."

"Do I? Tell me all. Just what kind of consolation are _you_ supposed to be?"

Toby realized a little too late where it was he had taken the conversation. Jareth was easily provoked, so long as he knew that the provocateur was not doing a deliberate job. Toby had already made a note of that; it helped to know that the truth was a tricky thing around a male that filed the same fact in numerous different levels.

He scratched his chin and attempted to find some way to back down gracefully. "I beg your pardon. If I offended…"

Wrong.

He briefly wished that the Goblin King came with an instruction manual.

Said Goblin King sprang down from the window ledge in a foaming fury, scowling fiercely. "Is that all you ever do- efface yourself? Is _this_ how you fight? If we used swords instead of words, your wrists would be so weak your defences would crumble into the dust against even a novice! What kind of protector will you make if you cannot even protect your ego! What kind of man are you!"

Toby retreated from the shouted words in alarm. He had set off a very important alarm, it seemed. Oh, he had seen Jareth in a temper. He had heard tell of such times. But he had never yet heard of nor seen the world disintegrate.

'… _if the world begins to fall apart, leave.'_

Elban's words seemed the height of good advice. But by the time he reached the door, the wood with its metal handle had disappeared. There was just a wall of nothingness. A crumbling, visionless, untouchable wall of nothing! A jagged brick opening yawned around the gap but there was no door. Toby did not dare touch it.

"And now there is nowhere to run. What else were you planning to do, Toby? Beg? Is that the kind of man you are?"

Jareth was mocking him, needling him. Toby thought he should be angry. Moreover, he thought he should be scared. He steeled himself to look around and feel afraid.

Jareth was standing an arm's length away, maddening grin on his pale face, hair loose on a blue shirt and hands on his hips. The medallion was mostly hidden in the artistic shreds of his shirtfront.

A pity, Toby thought, and all so very strange. He was more fascinated by such a scene than actually frightened. It flew against all odds, but he put it down to his recent spate of insanity and cheerfully decided to roll those dice and see where it landed him again. If Jareth threw him into the Bog of Eternal Stench or into one of his oubliettes, so be it. If he decided another week and a bit without sight was required, there was nothing Toby could do. Why fight the inevitable? Kicking and screaming only made things worse.

'_Being dull and depressing has never solved problems_,' Luka had said.

It went against his nature considering what his boyfriend- or former boyfriend- was accused of, but Toby took advice where he could get it.

But then again, he didn't like to be mocked. "No," Toby shrugged, "You stole the door."

"Did I?" The Goblin King actually smirked and took a step away. "Are you sure? Look again."

Toby simply turned fully and looked down his nose with cool unconcern. "I propose to take your word for it," he said. He smiled charmingly and leaned back. The support on his shoulder certainly _felt_ like a wooden door. "I see my door has returned. Thank you, Sire."

"Strange choice of title. You would have to be my subject to call me that."

"I consider the Underground to be my home. By default its customs are my own."

Jareth was not looking quite so ferocious any longer. That strange gleam was there, but the scowl had given way to a smirk- even more deadly in certain cases, considering that smirk could not be interpreted in time to duck out of the way of any tossed off stroke of vengeance. Instead, the fae was standing straight, arms crossed in a mirror of the mortal facing him, head no longer quite so high or so arrogantly held.

"Your home." Jareth shook his head. "It does not work like that, Toby." The chaos insurgence disappeared as suddenly as it had begun and he tapped the heel of his palm lightly against his forehead. "Damn these physical limitation!"

The mortal was genuinely surprised.

Jareth caught the look and rolled his eyes in expressive annoyance. "Last night leaves me more prone to automatically utilizing my magic and less able to sustain it for very long." He gestured around the room. "You see it has already dissipated."

The room was back to normal. Toby risked a glance over his shoulder and thanked his stars for the return of his door. It was a welcome sight in case of emergencies. "Then could you tell me what happened last night?" he asked.

A pink tongue snaked out to lick slightly dry lips. "No."

"No?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Jareth had, as usual, turned the question to the quester.

"Because we woke up in the same bed," Toby hissed, involuntarily looking to the wall that separated his room from Jervohl's.

"What you mean to say," Jareth corrected pedantically, "Is that we had sex."

Toby glowered darkly at him and muttered something inaudibly rude in another language about the fae.

"Sex has never moved mountains, nor shattered the earth. We just had sex. Is it such a hard concept to understand? It has happened a fair few times before this last night."

"Never in such a manner," Toby argued, "And since we seem to be relegating things to a non-dramatic point of view, let me ask you why it was that I do not recall being in any way interested until you forced the issue. And further more, explain why I seem to be the only one that experienced… what we did, in a sexual way."

For the second time that afternoon, Jareth sat down on the side of the bed and patted the place next to him. He waited patiently until the mortal took him up on the invitation and then looked reflectively up at him. The silence dragged for a few tense moments before he rallied himself to respond. "I manipulated your body a little. But I was prepared to stop if you asked. Second, I was not looking for sexual release. At that moment of time, I was too taken up with trying to stop all of myself from vanishing into the aura of my lands. You must forgive me if I was not up to scratch."

Toby dazedly drew on the memory in his mind of the fae plated in light and glowing like a star made man. Up to scratch, indeed! More like a homosexual's dream!

"I will, of course, be more 'present' the next time."

Jareth sounded quite matter-of-fact about it. He was sitting there, leaning forward companionably, with his hands clasped lightly between his knees and tapping out a rhythm with his right boot heel.

"Next time." A bell tolled with dire warning in Toby's ears. "Wait a minute, I am not sure this is a good idea. It did not work the last time; it will not work now! We are just not those kinds of people."

"Stuff!" Jareth exclaimed bracingly, "We can be any kind of person we want to be!"

"Well, I would like to be a _sane_ person. Somehow, I never feel sane around you."

"Tragic," Jareth agreed, "I propose we move back to our original quarters. Much more private. Jervohl will have no occasion to hear things unsuitable for her young ears."

Toby gulped. The conversation was getting far out of hand and he was even more confused in the afternoon than he had ever been in the morning. It was a lesson to him- not only to never follow his uneducated instincts, but also to never trust his guardian.

"Are you alright, brat?"

"My brain is forcing its way out of my ears to make room for the pressure in my skull," Toby assured him.

The sound and snap of worn leather and then a cool hand touched his forehead. "No fever," Jareth commented, "Possibly shock. Have you received unexpected news recently?"

Toby looked blankly at him.

The hand fell away. "Ah." Jareth carefully took his hand back. "I seem to be forcing the issue again."

Which brought them right back to the start of the problem- Toby scratched his head in bemusement. "Exactly what did you do to me last night?"

"Simple magic," Jareth soothed, "In words- I sent a wave of pleasurable sensation of a certain magnitude and type just under your skin, focusing on certain specific areas of your body so as to elicit the response I wanted."

"Simple," came the dry answer.

"Of course."

"You did all that. Just so I would have sex with you." Toby couldn't wrap his brain around it. "_Why_?"

Jareth tilted his head as he thought about it. "We were mostly naked and I needed it."

"Yes, but I still do not understand why you came to me. Why did you get out of your bed, walk three rooms down the corridor and collapse on the floor of my bedroom? Why _me_?"

"Toby, if you are looking for some startling revelation, I am afraid I cannot oblige," Jareth sighed, "I woke up in a state and I thought of you by some illogical twist of consciousness. Your room was close so I obeyed an impulse."

Toby could believe the logic. He just could not actually accept it. The story sounded half-written to him. "You did all this on impulse. How? You said your senses were locked in chaos."

"Self-preservation."

"Fair enough. I suppose you knew I would not turn you away. Was I that obvious?"

The Goblin King laughed out loud at such a thought. "Not at all! I only sought your help, though what help I imagined you could give other than what you did I do not know. I was as unprepared for all this as you were. But it happened. We both got satisfaction from it. Why tempt fate by trying to analyse it?"

Toby fidgeted a little and muttered something. It came out as a garbled stammer of some kind so he cleared his throat and tried again. "I cannot afford to make a bad judgement call in my position, Jareth."

"Ah. You suppose when this comes to the sticky end you assume it will, I will be angry enough to do something spiteful to you." Jareth didn't seem very upset at such a thought. "It is not my usual style, but I might. Or," he added, "We might not come to that sticky end you predict."

"If this is how you swear undying love, I imagined better from you." It slipped from his tongue before he could safely swallow it away and the minute it was out he went pink.

Jareth didn't laugh. He didn't smirk or say something sharp. His lips twitched, but he replied with the complete gravity, "I only use this as a wicked ruse to trap young men in my spider's web."

"Pity," Toby remarked acidly, "And here I thought you were being honest."

"I was! Mostly. I freely admit I am not in the least inclined to eke out the rest of my existence with you. I hope you are not…"

"Mercy, no!" Toby was horrified and amused by the thought. In love with the Goblin King! The thought was ludicrous.

"Then we have not a thing to worry about."

"Except that I do not have sex for the hell of it."

Dual-coloured looked at him with serious bewilderment and that silky voice said, "I never understand why. Inconsequential sex is the privilege of youth. How can you know a person without knowing his body? Perhaps it is me, but a male- or female- reveals so much of himself between the sheets that it seems a crime never to interact with him on that level."

A sudden click, a brief flare of illumination and Toby was suddenly looking at the world from a whole new perspective. The people he had met, the voices he had heard and the hands he has shaken- they mixed in a sudden jumble and jumped out at him with a clamour of silver tongues. He blinked in shock.

"A bit unorthodox, I know, but that method has never failed me so far," Jareth continued, "A lesson a very old and wise politician once taught me. Of course, he meant me to interact with people on a purely platonic level. I adjusted it to suit myself."

Toby waved it away. It was all too much off the topic to take in just yet. He would have to reflect on it. "That is not the point. I am not going to sleep with someone just to use them as a political ally. Besides, I am not the sort who could get away with such an elaborate charade. This is about the two of us and…"

"Are you attracted to me?"

Toby's mouth snapped shut obstinately.

Jareth grinned. He forbore to demonstrate; he had the feeling that there was only so much the mortal could take without leaving the room in a huff. "Take a chance," he invited softly, "Use your considerable logic. If I were not interested in bedding you, would I be spending this amount of time persuading you? What is the worst I could say?"

"You could laugh in my face," Toby snapped.

"Or I could be relieved," Jareth reasoned, "That you feel the same way I do."

The single grandfather clock standing in the corner began to chime the hour. They had been in the room for two hours, now, and the evening was approaching.

"Why me?" Toby repeated, "Why not let me go back to my nice, quiet existence?"

"I think you will find that you will need these skills sooner or later. If only for the ruthlessness it teaches you." Jareth didn't like to be morbid, but when the Lady Pandora died- and she might at any time- Toby would essentially be left without a home. Jareth would do what he could but since that depended on his mood and the time, it was best for Toby to learn some sort of marketable ability. The better for the man's independence, too. "It is all about your choices."

Toby sighed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Alright. Yes. I cannot believe I am about to do this, but alright."

The Goblin King stood up and stretched. "Well! If there are no more questions?"

"I have one condition."

Jareth stilled.

"No one is to know," Toby said firmly, "Not the Lady Pandora, and not Jervohl. Keep it from the servants if you can too, or Eloise will find out."

"Something that shames you about this? If it is going to be this difficult…"

"Look, I am not used to this. My logic is telling me this is a bad decision! I do not want to make a fool out of myself in front of everyone else."

"Toby, I am not trying to victimize you. I only insist because…"

"I know. And I am really not averse to it."

"Really?" Jareth raised an ironic eyebrow. "I am beginning to think my allure is fading. I have not worked this hard to get someone into bed with me since Elban."

"Elban?"

"Suffice it to say, it ended with a bucket of cold water and a very amused forest sprite."

Toby sniggered behind his hand in response to the wry humour in the drawled words. "I can believe that. Elban is quite a character."

"I like those around me to have character. Now, are you interested in my offer or not?"

It was an indirect compliment and Toby recognized it for what it was. His reservations were crumbling and he privately thought that it would not be as bad as it sounded. Just a little bit of shared camaraderie. "I am interested," he allowed.

Jareth smiled and left it at that. "Then I suggest we keep our rooms on as we do now. I will have Jervohl's room moved and I will simply visit at night."

"Like last night?" Toby grinned a crooked grin. "I was not expecting that."

"Neither was I," Jareth said, "But I suppose I should not be surprised. I should have expected it would come naturally to you."

"Because we are all desperate men at heart? Is that not what Sander sang? The entire Underground was singing that three years ago."

Jareth wished his jacket into his hands and shrugged into it. "Actually, I meant that I should not be surprised at your generosity. The strange thing about honest men is that they help even those they despise."

The Goblin King swanned out of the room, Sander's song on his lips.

Toby rubbed his eyes and looked to his wardrobe. He had really let himself in for it this time.


	47. Play

Author's Note: A random chapter that I thought would sit well as a kind of momentary snapshot of life after The Agreement. Kind of kooky and mild. What can I say? I can't write dark and depressing all the time!

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"Listen," Jareth demanded, "Sitting cross-legged and hypnotizing yourself into the nether world is of no use here. Just listen."

Toby sighed but obeyed. He shut his eyes then strove to relax, to open his ears and skin and nose up to the various whispers of the world around him. It didn't work. He could hear, he could feel and he could smell. But before five minutes were over, he was distracted, trying to count time in his mind and think and wanting to groan in frustration because his mind went around in circles.

"Alright, stop." Jareth was standing, hands folded behind his back, a scowl on his handsome face. "It seems you still have no idea what it is you are doing so I suggest you stop wasting my time and yours."

"I never asked to do this at all," Toby pointed out, "It was no suggestion of mine."

Jareth's eyes kindled for a very brief moment and then Toby heard him striding away, obviously too annoyed to stay.

Toby shook his head and got up. Whatever it was that his educator was trying to show him, he was not even close to completing this lesson. Strange, he mused, when he had easily picked up all the others. He could see well enough that he didn't need to place a hand on Serenity's neck to be led back to the Castle. Once inside, he made his way to the room beside Jareth's study where the pile of goblin complaints had been dumped. The Goblin King had gotten his own back on _that_ little interference- Toby had to sort through all of it and arrange it with Yava or Gonzo. Quite frequently, he had to mediate between both! That made for interesting afternoons and quite a few goblin fights.

He didn't see Jareth for the next three days. An old man was wished away and Jareth was apparently enjoying this new situation too much to keep touch. Which is not to say Toby _missed_ him. Rather, he missed the peace of solitude when Jareth reappeared at the study door with not a hair out of place and a look of arch mischief on his face. Toby knew too well what that look meant, and he prepared for it.

"You can stay on the couch if you promise not to disturb me," he ordered, smiling to take the harshness away.

"What? Not even a proper greeting?" Jareth pouted, lounging on the couch with a soft sigh.

"None. I do _not_ like my schedule disrupted."

"You have a schedule?" Jareth gave him a wry glance and then wished a book from the shelves to read. "I will attempt not to bother you… too much."

Toby counted slowly to ten and then counted backwards. He had just reached three when Jareth put down the book.

"Have you no other employment but dusty old books?"

The man never looked up. "These are your books. And I am trying to do your work."

"Mine, the Kingdom's… they are still dusty." A delicate sneeze sounded and Jareth looked very pleased with himself for having produced one on time without conscious effort. "There!"

"Your Majesty, if you distract me, I will never get this done and then I am liable to be here all night. In which case you will not be pleased because I will not be pleased."

"Then why bother with it at all? Leaveall thisand we keep our good temper. Come with me. We can explore the Castle."

Did he even realize, Toby wondered, how tempting that sounded? "Your Majesty, I am busy. You can enjoy yourself; I do not have that leisure."

"I do not see why. As your educator, I am giving you that leisure. In fact, I'm thrusting it at you."

Toby didn't believe Jareth could possibly use that word and not mean it in any sexual manner. He was right, if he could have seen that arch look deepen. Sharp teeth were shown off in a friendly smirk and Jareth was still lounging on the couch with his hands behind his head and his long legs crossed neatly at the ankles. "Thank you, but no."

The fae sat up with an actual pout. "Do you never allow yourself to have fun?"

"Yes. When my work is complete. You know, I am doing this at your request."

Thin lips quirked. "I should be so lucky. Every other request is blatantly disregarded."

"That is untrue!"

"Is it not? I had to drag you out to spend one morning swimming with me. I had to coax you not to be as stiff as a board in my bed. I had to ask you to call me by name and not title! And now this. I ask again- do you never enjoy yourself?"

Toby pretended not to hear.

"Toby, those complaints are going nowhere and you have the rest of the year to do whatever it is you need to do. They can be safely put away for a while."

"No. They cannot. This is important to the goblins and should have been done years ago," Toby retorted, "So leave me to my work and go do whatever it is you spend your days doing."

"That was rude. And uncalled for."

"I apologize. But you did provoke me."

"I merely asked why this is so important to you?" Jareth offered, "Is it perhaps the goblins? Because I tell you now this is a hopeless task. And even if it were not, what is one more day? This is not that pressing, surely?"

Toby looked up and couldn't help finding that perplexed concern utterly charming. Jareth really didn't understand that there was a time for work and a time for play. For him, things happened when and if he wanted them. Unfortunately, that was what made this all the more necessary. The goblins would work for their King no matter how shabbily he treated them. They needed a God, a Conqueror, and Jareth played that part with admirable aplomb. But it was unfair to make them work in conditions they were not happy in. And some of those conditions were horrendous! Most worked long hours with no extra pay and no leave. Rather, they were entitled to leave; they just had to ask Jareth. And _that_ was a hopeless task.

What right had Jareth to tell him to put thepapers away? He bent down to his work with an annoyed click of his tongue. Nothing he said would make much difference anyway. The only time Jareth would go away was if he wanted to. "As I said before, I have work. Please leave."

"Oh dear! The _consequences_ if you were ever to enjoy yourself," the other male mocked, "Toby, not even my mother is so stiff-necked. Tell me, when was the last time you romped with someone in a spirit of fun and hilarity?"

"Leave the Lady Pandora out of this," Toby snapped, "I simply have no interest in going with you."

The Goblin King shrugged without the least show of apology and contented himself with reclining on the couch. He let the mortal get on with whatever it was that Toby was occupying himself with and said nothing. Only, an idea began to grow. And that desk _was_ very tempting.

Toby looked up when Jareth vanished out of the room. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked down, only to yelp when sharp teeth closed on his shoulder. He scrambled away in shock, his heartbeats quickened and his breathing shallow.

"Surprised?" A dark brow lifted. "One day I will make more of a game out of it. For now…" He pressed closer with a mischievous smirk and purred.

Toby placed firm hands on his chest and pushed. "No," he demanded, "I am working and you are insatiable. Go away and leave me the hell alone!"

"You're delightful when you try to resist," the fae grinned, sending his long, ungloved fingers walking down the demure grey shirt. "Very well, then. I see you want nothing to do with me now." His smile broadened when Toby breathed a sigh of relief. He continued with the charade, moving a step away and shaking his hair out of his face. "Which leaves us with a problem, since I want quite a lot to do with you."

Toby stopped breathing altogether.

"The brat is shocked," Jareth commented aloud, waving a hand over the stiffened figure before him, "I tell him I desire him and he proceeds to hyperventilate into unconsciousness. Breathe!"

The 'brat' accordingly sucked in a breath. It restored some of his brain to proper working order. "Your Majesty, you are going to have to take care of it yourself. I have work to do and I cannot do both!"

"Then by all means forget work."

"I would prefer to forget _you_." The tone was mild, but only because the words stung.

Jareth actually- for one bare moment- felt a pang of disbelief and rejection. For one very small moment. And then his able mind twisted the impression the right way around. He held his tongue and let a confident stare settle into his eyes. Toby would bend to his wishes; and the mortal should thank him for it!

"What do you want from me?"

That flashing smirk was back. It made Toby think that softening his voice to resignation had been far too premature. Jareth didn't break that easily. He made a mental note of that fact even as a burning hot, supple palm rose to cup his jaw.

"I want you to sit down. Keep working," Jareth said unexpectedly, "See if you can forget everything about me."

Toby was beginning to think himself a fool for walking into this trap so easily. "That shouldn't be hard," he remarked, "But what are you going to do? Hold an orgy in here just to throw it back in my face?"

"Use other people before you?" The Goblin King looked suitably shocked. "How impolite of me. No, I shall make do with what I already have."

"I see." Toby let himselfbe pushed into the chair. The carefully constructed wooden stem allowed him to swivel, sending a hazy flash of memory ricocheting through his mind about the swivel chair in his father's study. The way he'd stood in the doorway and chattered about something and his father would swivel around and long-sufferingly placate him before chasing him off. Returning to the present, he almost expected Jareth to sit himself down in his lap. "You mean to put on a show for me?" The couch was right in his line of vision.

Jareth allowed the blue eyes to slide away to cast a speculative glance at the couch so admirably in view. And he was tempted. But he was not that sort of person. Instead, he put out a hand and drew the mortal's face gently back around to look at him. "How big do you think the space under the desk is?" he chuckled.

Toby turned pink and felt his jaw drop. But not before the Goblin King stripped off his coat and tosseed it away, dropping so gracefully to his knees that he might have been perfected only for that one action. Then he disappeared from view altogether.

Slender, beautiful hands reached out and grasped the legs of the chair, pulling it closer on its castors, one hand rising to swivel the creaking wood the short distance necessary to fit properly into the dark niche.

"No, no, no! Not so close. For pity's sake back out a little," Jareth's laughing voice enjoined.

Toby complied, finding the light words reverberate somewhere inside him. Something twisted in his mind, in his soul, turning the shock and the uncertainty to a slightly more uplifted incredulity. Only Jareth. Luka's fertile brain would have suggested sex on the desk, perhaps with the fae doing the thrusting. But Toby was willing to bet that Jareth hadn't even considered it.

"I really must ask Yava to clean under this desk. The cobwebs are terrible."

Toby felt a laugh bubble up. "Jareth, get out of there. You should not be there at all! You're a bloody King!"

"And the King may do as he likes," Jareth's voice floated up, "And what I like is… this." A wet kiss was bestowed and vocally appreciated. "See? Continue with your work all you like. I shall stay here and amuse myself."

"Jareth! This- this is… weird!"

"Alas, such is life." The mock sadness almost made the mortal burst into adrenaline-fed laughter. "Do you have any appointments, today? What if someone were to enter?"

Toby reached down and felt around until he had a fistful of hair in his hand. "Try it and I will gag you," he threatened.

"Yes, you are in the perfect position, aren't you? Do you know, I cannot see a thing down here. What exactly am I doing?"

Toby lifted his eyes to the sky. It sounded like his educator was in the mood to play. And heaven help anyone who wanted to do otherwise; they were ruthlessly pursued by this manifestation of the small child that lived in the man that would clamour for their attention until it was grudgingly bestowed. And Jareth being as Jareth was, they wouldn't even keep the grudge very long.

"Keep going," Toby sighed, "You're doing just fine."


	48. Out

Author's Note: Fool's Flowers (further in the chapter) are small cup-like flowers. They are called fool's flowers because the petals have such long, pointed tips that they flop over. Like on a jester's cap. They usually come in bright colours like bright pink or red or bright yellow.

----------------------------------------------

Eloise let herself out of a narrow door at the back of the Castle, nose in the air for the servants working in the pens and outbuildings.

But her nose dropped progressively lower the closer she came to the Goblin City. Her dress was plain and dark brown, her hair bundled beneath the typical scarf for a female of her age. Eloise might have been any goblin at all as she wound her way through the crooked streets. Except in one respect- she steadfastly stayed clean and neat.

Her hair was washed; her dress was carefully brushed; she held her skirts above the muck in the streets and took care where she stepped.

The building she went to was small, with holes for windows and grubby washing drying at the window. Eloise took the staircase to the flat at the top and hesitated.

Goblins didn't knock.

It wasn't that they were rude, but they were a friendly lot. Goblin children played in the streets and those who had no regular jobs always found the time between chores to visit someone else in the same situation. A joke was shared, a mug of ale drunk- those were the customs.

Knocking was for people who didn't keep an open door and didn't want to share. That was what goblins thought, anyway.

Eloise banged once with a fist- a far cry from the discreet tap she'd perfected- and went in.

The room was smoky from burning damp wood in damp air. The mess of hunched life by the fireplace resolved itself into the hulking shape of an old goblin female prodding a two-pronged fork into a pot. The old female turned around and manoeuvred her bulk to an upright position. It was as if a lopsided jelly were uprighted.

"Hmph," she sniffed, "It's you. What do you want?"

"Came to see you, Mum," Eloise said firmly, "Just like I promised."

The jelly had legs because it moved to the other side of the room. "Y' have, have ye? What for? Got no reason to come back here, do ye?"

Her daughter ignored her and came to the table, already untying her scarf with one hand as she hefted the sack up with the other. "Brought you presents."

Her mother hmph-ed again but dived at the sack with both hands. Goblins, as a general rule, loved presents. The food was scoffed at but handled carefully as it was put away on the overcrowded shelf above the sink. The squashed bunch of bright pink fool's flowers were put instantly into a chipped mug of water. If there was anything that Eloise knew her mother liked, it was fool's flowers.

The last present was taken out and set back on the table as it were a live ember. "What's that, then?" the old goblin demanded.

"Box," Eloise answered.

Two pairs of warm brown eyes regarded the box with various degrees of wariness.

"Don't need it."

"Mum, talk sense."

"Don't need it! Bah! Fancy piece of wood and metal. Won't hold nothing useful. Got no use in this house if it's got no use."

"Mum, it's a box for your beads," Eloise persevered, "Her Ladyship sent it."

The change was over in a flash. "Her Ladyship? Lady Pandora sent this box? Don't believe a word of it."

"No call to say I'm lying, Mum. Her Ladyship wanted to send you a chain before I said you wouldn't wear none. I told her you keep your beads in a rusty tin. A box is what you need, I told her."

The old goblin clicked her tongue and chattered shrilly to herself in her native tongue about daughters who burdened all those fancy people with silly stories about her old mum. All the while she waddled to get her rusty old tin and then to carry it back to the table. Her grumbling halted abruptly when she opened up the box and saw the smooth velvet lining within. She looked almost afraid of emptying her precious collection into its pristine sanctuary. But eventually she did, concentrating in the dim light.

Eloise just watched her, a small smile upon her lips. It was good to be able to visit a few times. There was no one like her old mum for having a heart of gold and a head like a brass pot. The finer meaning of things just trickled right by her. But it was good to come back home once in a while.

Goblins were a practical people. They knew their place, they knew their jobs and usually they knew their lives. They lived and died as their parents did. Particularly since they usually muddled up whatever change was attempted by the Goblin King. Just see what happened to electricity! They kept setting their houses on fire by messing with the wires. And that robot!

Eloise silently got to her feet and picked up the kettle from its hook. She filled it up at the sink, capably pumping up the water she needed. Onto the hob and then bustle around to get clean mugs and that syrup her mother kept for special occasions.

It would be a long visit this time.

Jareth retreated quietly away from the scene in his head and grimaced to himself. The state of that room was shocking! Leaning against the frame of a narrow window and watching the Castle ready itself for Gildred's arrival gave him plenty of time to appreciate open spaces and sunlight. And to appreciate being by himself.

There were, after all, quite a few political consideration to be made. The annual clean-up of the City had to be soon. The recent splash of rain had left everything a little damp and smelly. Well, anything _goblin_, he clarified. It was probable that the elves, the forest sprites, the water sprites and the merfolk had all celebrated the change of weather.

But the mountain sprites were another matter. They were a hostile group as it was and they were clamouring for his blood again. Trouble enough that had been when he'd taken the throne; then there had been that other trouble with their rebellion. Officially over, naturally. Jareth was ignoring them this time in favour of watching and waiting. He was still hoping that they would do nothing stupid.

The problem was, as scholars always ended, that the Goblin King had given Gildred the quarries. Large mining pits had closed. The expert teams of mountain sprites had found themselves out of work and out of their field of knowledge.

Personally, Jareth didn't sympathize. It wasn't logical to him for the sprites to be whining about the loss of a miserable tradition that had plagued the race for generations when they now had the opportunity to leave that miserable tradition behind and try something new. Of course, it had been it his unguarded recital of just that sentiment that had had the mountain sprites retreating back to their ancient stronghold in rocky territory.

Jareth's reaction to such rebellion?

He scandalized the Council by questioning out loud why the sprites hadn't just locked themselves away in their self-contained ancient city in the first place. It was their territory. It was lavish with tradition. It was self-contained. It had plenty of space for all of them.

"It would have saved me a lot of time and effort," he had pointed out, "And it would have let them get on with whatever blinkered existence they seem to want. Council dismissed; I refuse to discuss this further."

Eventually a battalion of representatives from the other races persuaded the Goblin King that it 'wasn't right'. It helped that the Goblin King was suddenly enraptured and felled by a human girl of fifteen just a week before they descended upon him. He'd agreed quickly to the moral wrongness of it all- albeit with a puzzled and reluctant air- and apparated straight into the stone city. He'd charmed and cajoled and promised blindly in decadent sweeps of imagination, so completely agreeable that the mountain sprites had found themselves agreeing to remain members of the Underground and its Council, even if they still officially refused to acknowledge him as King.

It was alright. Jareth didn't need the title. He had another by birthright and whether they hailed him as King or Lord, they made no decision without his nod of approval. He had his contacts, his spies, and his means of being both himself.

And as a contact and spy, he found it highly ironic that the mountain sprites were convinced that he had caused the rain only to inconvenience them and damage their stone dwellings with a vicious curtain of water.

As said, Jareth was waiting and watching.

On the other hand, there were more pleasurable ways to spend an afternoon than in dull practically.

He swept back out in his mind, probing idly around the land to check on old acquaintances and old rivals. Buttress, the old merman, was engaged in a lively game of chase with his little niece. Jareth thought the child would grow up to be rather striking and left it at that. Elban was engaged, surprisingly enough, in a serious argument with his butler over why there was no paper left anywhere in the near vicinity. The littered scraps of discarded sheets spoke more eloquently than words. Jareth left him to it. Merilin was somewhere Jareth never expected.

The Goblin King's head dipped lower as he frowned in absorption. That looked like the cliff above the Safety Road. An ill-conceived name, considering it bordered its outlawed neighbour, but then it was from days gone by when the no one wanted to use the Labyrinth as a means of transport.

Merilin, though, was off his mount and idling his time away with his back to the steep cliff. Clearly waiting for someone; the unopened flash had three glasses beside it.

Why three glasses?

Jareth's mind did an unexpected twist. His concentration broke when the door slammed open. Jervohl was standing a little way into the way, ashen and trembling and begging to be allowed to leave the palace before Gildred arrived.

Jareth couldn't abide tears. He also held similar views on hysterical females. His abrupt answer- formulated from his irritation with her behaviour and annoyance at her interruption- was to pluck the powerstone ring from her finger and lock her into her room.

He gave the ring to the first goblin he found and ordered it taken to Gonzo, who was to put it in his study. Preferably where he would never again find it.

As a last thought, he had three guards posted outside the door of his sister's prison and had the guards in the grounds doubled and placed on high alert.

The only good thing about Merilin's three glasses was that Jareth now knew exactly where Madigh and Luka would be for two days. Unfortunately, if an assassin from the Outlaw Lands with not much magical power was to slip unseen into the Underground… Jareth could not be certain he would know.


	49. Day's Work

"Toby?"

The mortal stilled the axe and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. "Yeah?"

Jareth wasn't sure that he was looking at what his eyes told him he was. "Are you chopping wood?" he asked, looking thoroughly fascinated by the very idea.

Toby looked down at the axe in his hand and then at the log he was splitting. "Yes," he said slowly, "The Lady asked me to. Why?"

"Oh, nothing." Jareth eyed the log as if it was about to bite him. Or rise up and shake a fist in his face, at any rate. "_Why_ does the Lady want you to chop wood?"

Toby sighed and propped the axe to the side. Evidently Jareth was more shocked than surprised. This meant that there would be questions. So he took the time to heap together what he had already finished as he answered as precisely as he could- "She discovered that the suite you put Gildred into has a fireplace. As she pointed out, it would not be seemly to have an empty fireplace."

"I see. And it never occurred to her to check the wood bin in the cellar?" Jareth commented.

Toby smiled wryly up at him and stilled to relax his shoulders. "She did, actually. The rain got in and the wood was damp."

"Damp? Yes, but we are hardly going to _light_ that fireplace, are we?"

"It would not be seemly," Toby said finally.

The mortal stood up and picked up the axe.

Jareth clicked his tongue as he remembered exactly why he had been hunting for Toby in the first place. "Oh, put that thing down. Or no! Keep it. You can use it, but come with me."

"Eh?"

"Erudite as always, brat. Come along. I do not have all the time in the world."

Toby swung the axe but left it embedded and glared at his guardian. "Why?" he asked mulishly.

"Toby, leave that irrelevant waste of time and follow me."

"No." The axe was yanked out and swung again.

"Oh, for the love of… Here!" Jareth wished and the wood was done. "Now leave the damned thing."

Toby folded his arm and raised an eyebrow. It was meant to remind the Goblin King that he would only meet resistance if he tried to order Toby to do anything. It was meant to make the Goblin King remember the truce that had, up to this point, worked very well. It was also meant to make Jareth see that he was treading on very thin ice right then.

So Jareth being Jareth, he rolled his eyes and did something unexpected. He told the truth- "Please? I need you to keep guard over Jervohl while I run a few checks on my lands looking for a possible assassin that may be in close vicinity to the Castle while keeping a mental eye on Madigh and Merilin."

It was enough. Toby moved instantly and nodded. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"Her room," Jareth supplied, "I took away her powerstone so there should be no trouble. Do not let her out. And tell her why only if she threatens to decapitate you with a nail file. If she gets too much just wish for me."

The Goblin King disappeared and Toby trotted into the Castle, stopping only to ask that a bath of water and a clean shirt be brought up to Ms. Jervohl's room. He hastily collected Hessie as well, hoping that the woman would know how to cope with a furiously upset fae better than he would. He explained only that Jervohl might be in danger and that the Goblin King had given orders that she was to kept safely in her room with the door locked. Hessie nodded, forbore to ask questions and told him severely that it was not done for a male to take a bath and change in a young lady's rooms, but given the circumstances she would make an exception.

Toby thanked her gravely and kept his grin to himself. He had the sneaking suspicion that Jervohl would care less about him cleaning up a little in her room as she would be about being locked in.

True enough, they had to spend a few minutes placating her through the door before she stopped threatening to brain someone with a chair unless they let her out.

Jareth, meanwhile, apparated away, the sooner to find out what was afoot. The less that Gildred knew the better. The outlaw would change direction instantly and Jareth could do without the interference.

Standing on the cliff, he looked around. The Safety Road lay like a cream ribbon in the sun. The outer wall of the Labyrinth ran along one side and the cliff-face ran along the other. There was, in short, no place to hide and watch.

Jareth didn't pace- Elban had often caught up with his meandering steps in the wild and Madigh would be an even better tracker- but crouched where he had landed and thought about it. The Labyrinth would be a good place to hide, but the three would be on the other side of the road. He wouldn't hear a thing from the Labyrinth.

A vision crystal?

No. That would… on the other hand, Luka would not be looking for a crystal so close to the border of his sanctuary. Jareth conjured one up and used it to look around. No one yet. Good. He rolled the crystal in his fingers. It worked, evidently, as it always would. But there were disturbances with working so close to the Outlaw Lands.

The Underground was essentially a land of order; imposing chaos was easy to do. But the Outlaw Lands were of chaos. And raw chaos when handled by a chaos magician in the midst of chaos would… well, create chaos. Besides which, Luka was not as powerless as most people thought. It was the only reason Jareth had tolerated him as long as he had, just to see what it was that had made the younger fae so worthy of so much ability. The Labyrinth must have had _some_ reason to give him that powerstone. And Luka might just use that power to sense him.

So, no magic just yet.

But if the crystal had already been established, Luka might not even note its existence.

Jareth bit his lip and peered over the edge again. Merilin was lying on his side, his head pillowed on his arm in a strangely vulnerable position.

The Goblin King looked down at the crystal. Using the crystal would still leave him out in the open for all to see. So it would be no real use in its usual way but he had another weapon that he could use along with it. He changed. The owl fluttered down, mostly blinded in the sunlight, but still capable of winging its way to a crevice in the cliff-face. The crystal it held in its claws glittered.

Merilin didn't even see it. He was half-asleep, lulled by the stillness and the warmth. It was a good place to escape. No one ever went there, and both rock and Labyrinth kept the wind out and provided shade. The best place to sleep. Or keep an assignation.

And Merilin was doing both.

Two hours later he heard the rustling of the grass and sat up immediately, hand going to his scabbard only to find it gone. Luka smiled down at him, twirling the blade with an astonishing amount of dexterity.

"Tsk," the fae teased, "I like to think you know better than this, dear."

"Welcome, my friend," Merilin yawned, sitting up slowly but showing no fear, "I fell asleep waiting for you. Where is our third acquaintance?"

"Busy," Luka said shortly, "He could not come. Pour me a glass, Merilin; I miss the good wine. Madigh is an oafish boor, poor lamb. He lives in a hovel and eats undercooked food. But he is clever, and he does get the job done."

"I will take your word for it. Now, what can I do for you?"

Luka lifted the glass with one hand and sipped daintily, all the while examining the arched snake carved into the handle of the sword he had captured. He seemed entranced by it. Not an unusual occurrence for someone with a weakness for pretty craftwork. "I need your help, Merilin."

Merilin stilled and watched him, pleasantly ambivalent in expression. He dipped his pointed chin in encouragement and pricked up his pointed ears. But he kept silent, hoping to draw as much information out as he could without revealing or saying more than he had to. He had concerns about being implicated later on. As it was, Jareth might well kill him if he found out about the meeting.

"You are strangely silent, my dear."

"I am waiting breathlessly to hear whatever it is that you would not trust to a letter," the elf said ironically.

Luka laughed at that, throwing back his head and offering both sword and scabbard back to their rightful owner. He shook his brown head and took off the black cloak he wore. "I must say, the outlaws have some quite wonderful skills," he remarked, "These cloaks are vastly underestimated. A little care and they almost seem to melt against a suitable shadow. Now, Merilin- I have a proposition for you."

"I am listening."

"That does not mean much to me, my dear. I need an assurance. After all, you have," Luka's mouth quirked, "Political aspirations. Power behind the throne and all that?"

"My friend, I would need first to be in a particular position behind the _Goblin King_ before I can have his throne."

"Jareth? Oh, no, dear. Never make the mistake of confusing sex and need with _him_. He could care less, really he could."

The Goblin King was justifiably proud of garnering such a compliment.

"He is a cold bitch, that one, more likely to bite and claw than fall in love. He ruins what he loves the most." Luka's voice was perfectly matter-of-fact and he was playing with the black material in his lap. "He plays other people that way. Simple, really- a female always wants to feel beautiful; a male always wants to feel virile. He panders to that, gives them what they want, and as they lie sated and unthinking in his bed, he plies his silver tongue to extract what he needs. Simple."

Merilin raised an eyebrow. Something sounded very wrong about the way that Luka was speaking. Sitting so close that he could smell the fae, Merilin could swear that he saw a sly humour in the serene lines of that pretty face.

"See all that romantic nonsense with Sarah for reference. He gave her what she wanted, discovered to his horror that he cared about her and then proceeded to torture her for it. And what was his reaction to her last dying wish? He ruined her brother's life as well."

Merilin held up a hand for no good reason that he could think of. He did not want to listen to more. There was something chilling about the way that the fae spoke, something chilling in his calm. "I did not come here for this," he said sharply.

"I think you should stay quiet and listen," Luka murmured, not even bothered by the interruption, "If you are to understand, you have to understand Jareth and the effect he has on people."

"Is that really your reason for wanting him beneath your hold?"

A sharp grin- the first sign of something beyond peace. "No. You know me better, my dear. What I want is power. I developed rather the taste for it with my father. I have no quarrel with Jareth, per say. He is as he is and the secret to him is that you cannot expect otherwise."

"I never have."

"Are you sure?" Luka shifted position and put the cloak aside, stretching languidly in the warmth. "No one but Elban ever cracked the code. He confided, of course, once I assured him that I only had Jareth's best interests at heart. I can be persuasive too, you see." He sounded inordinately proud of himself, like a little boy.

Merilin was getting more anxious than he cared to admit. He found himself fidgeting.

Luka suddenly snapped upright and shook his head. "Be that as it may, Madigh has a scheme. Jervohl is perfectly positioned. We harm her; Jareth will go after Gildred. Gildred is, fortunately, quite hopelessly in love with her. He will blame Jareth and try to get Jervohl away from him. We use her a catalyst to create mayhem. Jareth will be compromised. He is no warrior. He has never fought a battle in his life. If he cannot be taken, he still will not stand a chance against a trained assassin. We kill him or bring him to our bidding. Then we have power of the Underground."

Merilin absorbed this slowly. He didn't know why he was suddenly icy with fear. He had expected something of the sort. But to hear it in words was quite a large bath of cold water falling over his head. And for the first time in his life, he was uncertain around Luka. The wrong thing said and the fae looked as if he would have no issue with silencing him completely.

"You seem speechless, my dear. Have I startled you?"

"No, no. I was thinking. What is it you want me to do?"

"You have an ear with a lot of others. Create tension. Bring civil unrest. Keep Jareth so occupied that he reacts badly."

"Badly? How do you mean? How do you know he will even fall for such an obvious plan?"

"Because that is the secret- he reacts. He _has_ no enigma. The Goblin King, my dear, is just a fraud. He will be confused and he will be upset and he will react just as we want him to. Never fear that."

"You are really sure this will work," Merilin asked, almost gawking in awe.

Luka laughed again and shook his head. "My dear, Madigh has great faith in you." Then the fae got up and went to the cliff-face. He caught the rope he had left hanging and climbed agilely.

Merilin poured himself a glass of the wine and began to drain it in earnest, more shaken than he had ever been.

A hand came from nowhere to sweep the glass from his lips. He yelped as the wine splashed over him and the glass fell to the grass, heart in his mouth as he met a pair of fatally deadly mismatched eyes.

"Up," Jareth ordered quietly. The controlled timbre of his voice was very telling. "Get to your feet. Your mount had better know its way to its dwelling because you are coming with me."

He put a gloved hand on the elf's trembling shoulder and whisked them back to the Castle at the Centre of the Labyrinth. They were in Jervohl's room and pandemonium had already broken out, just as Jareth had guessed it would.

The door was open and goblins were squealing and running back and forth. Hessie was shouting at them, herding them out and trying to keep them from coming back in. Pandora and Eloise were grim-faced and pale, one with bloodied hands.

Jervohl was directing them, tending to the wound in Toby's shoulder.

Jareth left Merilin in the corner with a dire warning- "If he is hurt badly, I will blame you. And you will pay."


	50. Cobwebs

Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. I couldn't access my story page for all of last week! It was something to do with my computer at the time, I think. But no harm done. It's all taken care of, so I hope these chapters are reading alright now that I actually can post them.

* * *

The Goblin King simply threw one goblin out the door and kicked another out with him. The goblins shrieked and left instantly, dropping whatever they were carrying to the floor to make a quicker escape. He slammed the door on them- almost taking off a goblin's tail- and then told Hessie to make sure that no one entered. The woman nodded and stood back.

Then those cold mismatched eyes turned to the three females looking cautiously at him. "Stop gawking and get on with it," he spat, gesturing in one swift movement to the bloodied bandage hanging half off Toby's shoulder.

The mortal was the first to move. He sighed, shook his head and pushed the three females off of him before rising. "Jareth, please stop yelling at them. There is no harm done here."

Merilin thanked his fate that the wound was so shallow it looked worse than it actually was.

"Jervohl?"

The woman stepped forward.

"Are you injured?"

"No."

"My Lady? Eloise?"

"No, dear."

He nodded slowly and looked slowly at each of them in turn. "Then why," he mused, "Are you still standing around here?"

They looked confused.

Smiling a bright, brittle, dangerous smile, Jareth herded them calmly to the door and sent Hessie with them. "If there is any news pertaining to a change in circumstance, I shall let you all know. For now, do me the great favour of getting out of my way."

Toby risked a look at Merilin before Jareth turned around again. The elf was pale and a healthy dose of fear seemed to be tinging his defiant aloofness. Toby could only hope that whatever rage Jareth was in had not been caused by him. Otherwise, Merilin would be in very grave danger.

At least the world wasn't fragmenting around them.

Jareth, for no discernible reason, stared at the rough grain of the wooden door for eight long seconds before turning and levelling a caustic glance at his ward. "How bad?" he demanded.

"A scratch," Toby answered quickly, "Very bloody but very shallow. A clean stab, with no poison."

"Good." Jareth looked at Merilin and the very fact that he didn't look particularly amused said more than even the suffocating stillness did. "You. Stop cowering like a coward and come into the open."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Merilin obeyed, knowing his only mode of remaining unharmed was to be explicitly helpful. He stepped around a smashed china basin to stand respectfully a little way beyond Toby. He didn't look at the man's face; likely he would only see sympathy and bewilderment on it. He didn't like pity.

Jareth leaned back against the door and let his head meet the wood, peering down his nose at the slender figure regarding him so honestly. But he would not speak of that yet. Not with present company. "Toby. Tell me of the attack."

"Three of us were in the room- Jervohl, Hessie and myself. A cloaked male came in through the window. Jervohl went for him. Hessie went to call for the guards. Jervohl was disarmed so I did the best I could. He piqued me and left through the window."

Jareth digested that. He stared up at the ceiling, hand on his medallion as he turned the facts over in his head. "How did he climb the outer walls of my Castle?" he asked out loud.

"There was no rope, Jareth. I checked."

Finally a small smile curved that thin mouth. But when Jareth pushed himself off the door, both elf and man moved to give him a wide berth. Plunging his hand out the window and pulling hard and he dragged the rope in. "He came _down_, Toby. He got in from the parapets."

"What?" Toby looked aghast from the rope lying under Jareth's highly polished boot to the fae. "I- I never… Forgive me, Jareth, I never even thought to look up. I assumed he would…"

"No matter. You did what you could." Jareth waved a dismissive hand. "One last question. What kind of mask did this male wear?"

Toby looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Because I think. What was it?"

"Ceronome, I think. It was as hard as stone because it resisted Jervohl's attempt to break his nose with that." Toby gestured with his good hand down to the shattered basin. "But stone would be too heavy to wear as a mask. And not easy to form. It was black. He wore black gloves as well."

"Very well, you can go. Have Hessie take care of that and then check on Serenity. She is upset by the commotion. Let her out of her stall; take her for a ride. But go nowhere except the Forest. Anywhere else may be dangerous."

Merilin processed it and wondered at the way that Jareth just _knew_ things. It all sounded so logical when one thought about it after the fact, but for the life of him it was all just a little like a magic trick. Some of confusion might have transmitted itself to his captor because Jareth shrugged as if to answer his thoughts.

"Simple reasoning," Jareth told him, "Nothing is as it seems- true of life as well as the Labyrinth. I know about Serenity because I know she can sense changes in atmosphere and danger to me. It upsets her. The forest is exactly where everyone will expect an assassin to hide. Myself, I think he is still in the Castle. Possibly on the parapet right now."

Merilin gaped. Something was not right. This was worse than confronting that deadly version of Luka. Jareth was more than a match on any given day.

"I will not go after him, of course," Jareth continued, "There are better ways to handle this."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Merilin said meekly.It seemed to be expected.

"You do not want to find out how I know about the mask? Or your meeting with Luka? Or how I knew there would be trouble back at my Castle while I was away?" Jareth was on the bed, sitting up against the curved headboard. Jacket gone and boots crossed neatly at the ankle, long legs stretched out full length. Tassels and flows of lace- strange how it only seemed to enhance him rather than make him appear ridiculous. The riding crop in his hands was being twirled, hooded eyes watching the crystal-shaped glass affixed to the end spray shards of colours.

Merilin licked his lips. His mind was distressingly blank. He was in deeper than he had been prepared to go. "Yes, Your Majesty," he settled, annoyed with himself but knowing of no other suitable way to reply.

"Curiosity, Merilin, will be the death of you. Does it seem logical to come here to wound someone with your face, and thereby your identity, exposed? And using an assassin is never good enough. It could only have been a handful of people. Madigh trained with Jervohl; he knows her weaknesses. A mask, then."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Merilin was getting tired of that line. "I understand," he added, "It is logical now that you mention it."

"As for how I know about your meeting with Luka," Jareth resumed, completely disregarding the new placations, "I know everything that goes on in my Kingdom, just as I know everything that goes on in my Castle."

Not possible, Merilin told himself. He cynically wondered if some part of his mind was not being a little hysterical.

"I always have, I always will," the Goblin King whispered, spinning the glass bauble faster and faster. "And I watched you with him. I heard every word he told you. And I saw every expression that haunted your eyes when you listened."

"Not possible." Merilin clapped a hand to his mouth.

Jareth was off the bed, leaning seductively over the raised foot and holding out a crystal as if it were a gift, a precious bribe, a promise offering so much more. The corners of his mouth curling, his eyes glowing, a hot flush ghosting over his cheekbones. His shirtfront falling open in a flurry of lace, one delicate wrist glimpsed under the wide sleeve pulled taunt by an outstretched arm.

Merilin saw himself in the crystal, saw Luka and saw the two of them talk. He clearly read the surprise and disbelief in his own eyes. How much more clearly had Luka seen it? He saw himself fidget, fingers rising to rub the tip of his left ear in worry, settling further into the mossy seat he had taken, feet shifting position. And then he looked up and Jareth was still watching him, still promising more with his eyes than the crystal destroyed with its sight.

Merilin dived.

Jareth threw the crystal and was out of the way before the elf could even blink. Collision between the wooden bedstead and Merilin's midsection was enough to make those dazed eyes blink to sudden realization.

"The Goblin King, my dear," Jareth mimicked, "Is a little smarter than your average whore."

"Fraud," Merilin gasped, still trying to get his breath back.

"Oh, but you already knew that," his tormenter laughed.

The door opened and shut very quietly.

Merilin rested his head against the soft quilt that smelled of perfume as he tried to get his mind to work again. Something- a lot like icy fingers- drifted over his ribs and he could clearly feel his heart thump loud in his breast. His lungs hurt. His head hurt.

Broken pieces of a shattered crystal lay against a wall. As the elf watched, they dissolved into the stone floor.


	51. Bonn

Author's Note: A 'pleache' (further in the chapter) is a pastry. Very creamy and rich. Think of the love child of a black forest cake, an apple pie and a cheesecake. And yes, it is made with peaches. It's an old goblin recipe.

-----------------------------------------

"Are you okay?"

Jareth looked up from moody contemplation of the flagstone and sighed. "Fine. How is your arm?"

Toby shrugged and winced when it hurt. "It hurts," he said honestly, "Hessie thinks I should go to a healer."

"I thought you said it was shallow."

"She thinks it would be better to have the healer tell me that. Jervohl says I should take it as a good sign that she is so protective."

Jareth grinned wanly and nodded. "She only does that for her charges," he told him, "Only a handful of people get to be mothered by Hessie- Jervohl, Ezreeka, and Gibil. Two others as well; I can't remember their names. Even I do not merit a fuss."

"You look exhausted, Jareth. Are you sure you feel all right? Where were you, by the way?"

Jareth rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Merilin finally did what I suspected he would always do- he got ahead of himself. He set himself up to be used in grand style. I almost left him there to stew, but I have to say the conversation intrigued me." His voice dropped, as if he were talking to himself. "He is much smarter than I ever gave him credit for."

"Who? Merilin?" Toby looked artlessly curious.

_'Curiosity will be the death of you one day…'_

Jareth caught that clear blue gaze for five heartbeats, wondering how much of the truth he could divulge. "No," he eventually said, "Not Merilin, the other."

"Madigh was there, was he?"

Jareth didn't answer. Instead he rubbed his eyes again and gave in to a yawn. Toby dropped the topic instantly in favour of grabbing his sleeve and yanking firmly.

"Come on," the mortal ordered, "You can do with some food and drink. Something light, I think. No stamina at all," he mourned mockingly.

Jareth glared at him but got reluctantly to his feet. "Where are you taking me?"

Toby just shoved him to the door. Much to his surprise, Jareth stuck his tongue out at him in retribution. It was almost funny. Toby couldn't help the grin that bubbled up, or the exasperated sigh that he indulged in without thinking.

They walked amicably together, silent because it was rare that they were in such a mood during a perfectly non-sexual situation. Sex was easy. They knew- generally- what to do during that. But talking usually ended with someone saying something wrong. Which would lead to a fight. Which would be irritating, so they both shut up and enjoyed just enjoying a relaxed peace with each other.

Jareth's eyebrows rose when Toby herded him down into the kitchens.

The goblins stopped short and stared. Time froze. No one moved. Everyone was waiting for Jareth to say something nasty, or do something abusive, and Jareth was just caught by the looks of fear that were directed his way.

"Well, I could take him away, but I fear he will eat me," Toby pointed out pathetically, speaking in goblin.

The chief cook moved, pushing her assistant out of the way and waddling up to the tall intruders in her kitchens. She bowed, stuck a large wooden spoon out at the mortal and said, "Come in. But no stealing my wine apples."

Jareth sniggered and found the spoon suddenly in his face. Toby froze too. The cook had never met Jareth; even pleading ignorance, she clearly had a death wish to wave a spoon under his nose. Toby fought the urge to cover his eyes.

Jareth was aware of Toby's panic. Indeed, the entire kitchen was now gnawing on either a fist or an apron. He hoped they would wash their hands before they touched any more food. As for the fat cook with the sparse hair and the pug nose, he firmly pushed the spoon away and dropped down to one knee, looking at her eye to eye. "Mrs. Bonn," he smiled, "It is an honour to finally meet you."

"Flattery," she sniffed, "No call to try to sweeten _me_, Sir. Fruit is all you'll get at this disgraceful time of day. No cooked food now."

Jareth had been having an unusual day, even for him. But he was hard put it not to laugh at the little thing. She amused him. Not an ounce of fear in her demeanour! And how wonderful to find out that Toby had a weakness for wine apples.

"Er, Mrs. Bonn," Toby interrupted desperately, also kneeling beside Jareth, "I would like to introduce you to His Majesty."

The cook swung her spoon over one shoulder like a rifle and eyed Jareth up and down, hand on her hip and her mouth severely compressed. "So," she grunted, "His Majesty, is it? Hmmm. Well, if you is with Mr. Williams, you can't be all that bad, eh? Come along, then! Off my floor, the both of you."

Jareth was even more delighted. Toby was blushing and the fae couldn't resist goading him with one of those mocking glances. But they found themselves sitting at a severely clean table. In the blink of an eye a spotless tablecloth had been thrown over the surface, a bowl of fruit set in front of them and silver goblets with cold water to hand.

Jareth settled back in his seat and drank deeply, feeling the cold liquid clear away some of the debris in his mind.

Toby smiled at him, the goblins still watchful just behind his seat. "Mrs. Bonn believes in the therapeutic effects of cold water," he remarked, "Do you not, Mrs. Bonn?"

"Always said, I has, that cold water will clear the cobwebs," she declared robustly, "Hot bread, fresh from the ovens, Your Majesty. And butter. You starts in on that."

She whisked away again. For a fat goblin that waddled, she moved quickly. And she talked even quicker. She was constantly yelling at an underling, muttering to herself, or chattering to her cronies. When she wasn't talking, she was singing. The kitchen was _full_ of sound. The goblins laughed and shrieked and yelled. They buzzed around and somewhere in all the collisions and mess and clattering cauldrons and sizzling pans and whizzing utensils, the most wonderful creations were born.

Jareth felt himself sink into the disturbances.

"Feel better?" Toby asked, shining a wine apple on his sleeve like a little boy.

"Certainly," Jareth yawned, "I could go to sleep here."

"I _thought_ the chaos might be good for you," Toby chuckled, "I was speaking with Jervohl recently. She said Gildred would retreat to a special room after such a mad dash across half the country. Apparently it had to be completely pristine, with everything inside it in perfect position. She said it relaxed him. I thought perhaps you would need the complete opposite. Besides, you did look starved."

"Starved?" Jareth opened one very blue eye and glared. "I am not starved!"

"No, not quite. But you are hardly anything more than skin and bone."

_'You're all skin and bone'… 'And you are a very soft little bundle, my Sarah'…_

Jareth shook his head and banished the distasteful thought. He was determined not to think of Sarah, at least not in that nostalgic way. So far the dreams had not recurred. He could only hope they never would.

"No sleeping at table!"

Startled, he opened his eyes and straightened up, blinking as the fog from the steaming bowl of soup threatened to engulf him.

"Eat! Eat! Or does you like cold soup?"

Mrs. Bonn was yelling from her place at the stove where she was busily arranging something on a plate. The two goblins that had brought the soup to the table had already run away, melting back into the crowd so that they wouldn't be blamed if anything went wrong.

Jareth looked in wonder at the enormous bowl of soup and dreaded the thought of having to finish all of it. He never ate that much. Toby was looking at him, waiting for him to start first. The mortal had an annoyingly triumphant smirk on his face.

The fae slowly took off his coat, rolled up his sleeve and then tasted the thick, creamy concoction. A slow smile spread across his face. "A marvellous goblin," he commented, "She knows my favourite."

Hot soup- as much as they wanted- with fresh bread and plenty of fruit to sweeten the taste if they wished; cold water to quench their thirst and cool a burnt tongue- both were blissfully full by the end of it all. Toby gave a heartfelt groan when the cook asked if they wanted to try one of her famous pleaches. They looked in torn regret at the cold pastry. But said no and got to their feet.

"Mrs. Bonn," Jareth said seriously, "You are a treasure. You are never getting a day off for the rest of your life."

She sniffed at him, but Toby suspected that it was exactly the kind of compliment she understood. To his surprise, she even smiled when Jareth's back was turned. And then the kitchen went back to its typical noisy banter and the Goblin King and his ward were left to show themselves out.

Jareth remained silent on the way up.

Toby didn't talk either. But he didn't think there was any need to. Jareth looked pensive, but not exhausted. The dark look had disappeared and whatever it was that had put him in such a rage had dissolved. That put him in mind of a question he needed to ask.

"Did Merilin tell you anything about Luka?" Toby murmured.

It was, Jareth mused, an almost artless question- perfectly unconcerned; but obviously not, because Toby had had to ask it in the first place. And how to answer? Telling Toby the truth would lead to questions that the fae didn't want to answer. It would also put Toby into a position to ask around for more information. And Jareth didn't want that. Toby might become a hazard if Luka managed to draw him into his scheming. Jareth didn't want that either.

"No," he sighed, "He has heard nothing. No one knows where Luka is. We only know for certain that Luka has gone into Gildred's lands. We assume that he is with Madigh. It is possible he is…" Even Jareth's mind could not provide him with a possible use for a spoiled socialite fae in the Outlaw Lands.

"You need not spare my feelings, you know," Toby snapped, "I am quite capable of hearing the truth."

"Are you?" Jareth didn't like being serious but he went with his nature of the moment.

"Of course. I will not get upset just because I love him."

Love- present tense. Never a good sign. Jareth stood by his decision not to tell Toby the truth. It was not Toby's reaction so much as what he might expose him to. Telling him would make him curious, make him look. And if he looked, Luka might find out. In which case, Toby might become a secondary target.

Jareth wasn't going to think about Sarah, but he wasn't going to forget what he had sworn.

_'And what was his reaction to her last dying wish? He ruined her brother's life as well…'_ "True," the fae said, "You can handle the truth." 

"I certainly can. For what it is worth, I think that Luka is capable of making a fool of himself. He is silly, but not stupid. Not perceptive either, but he has a strange ability to patiently piece together all the information he spends years painstakingly finding."

_'Because that is the secret- he reacts. He has no enigma…'_

"I suppose he does," Jareth said politely.


	52. No

Viraag- the milk and juice combination.

Hastur- means 'Knight' in the fae tongue.

-------------------------------------------------------

Gildred arrived, as he always did, unexpectedly. The warning they got was when Jareth roused the servants fifteen minutes before they arrived late one evening.

Jervohl came downstairs the next morning to find a very familiar female sitting in her accustomed place at the breakfast table. She almost turned tail and ran. Except that Dervina rose from her place with a quiet smile and bowed. Jervohl couldn't be so rude as to ignore that.

"Ms. Jervohl," the fae said quietly.

"Dervina, you have always called me by name before," Jervohl sighed, "How are you? It is good to see you again." She held out her hand to the other female and then invited her to sit. "Is My Lord here on good business or bad?"

How easy, she mused, it was to fall into old habits. Gildred was always 'My Lord' to her. Woe betide any of the outlaws if they did not respect his title.

"I have no notion," Dervina admitted, "We were told to follow him here and that was all. I thought perhaps you would know?"

Jervohl thought back to her attacker. Better not to say anything about that, she decided, until she had spoken with Jareth first. Her brother knew more than he had so far mentioned. Considering he had gone out of his way to mention nothing, that was not a hard thing to believe. "Perhaps it is politics," she said vaguely.

Dervina shook her brown head. "The meeting would have been in the outposts, then, as always. Not at the Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. You know the drill."

Yes, she knew the drill. The few times Gildred had met with Jareth, he had left her behind in his fortress, hiding her away like a secret weapon he could introduce only when strictly necessary.

If any of this showed in her face, Dervina never acknowledged it. Instead she picked delicately at her food and continued to talk in her deep, husky voice. "He has been with the Goblin King since early this morning. He has only Braan in attendance with him. I suppose that will be enough protection."

Jervohl raised an incredulous eyebrow.

That, Dervina certainly did see. Her eyes widened ever so slightly in dawning horror and she looked genuinely upset as she clasped the other's hand across the table. "Forgive my plain speaking. I meant no insult."

"I should hope not. Friend or foe, Jareth has never yet set a trap like _that_!" Jervohl let her old friend stew for a while in silent apology while she poured herself some viraag. Looking up, she caught the worried frown in brown eyes and finally smiled reluctantly. "I understand this situation makes you anxious. Jareth can be a manipulative creature. But I do not _think_ he means any harm to any of you… this time."

Dervina might have squirmed had she not been quite so well trained. As it was she was flushed and bewildered, trying to make reparation without openly lying. "I am sure his intentions have never been suspect," she tried, "I have always had the utmost respect for him."

"No, you have not," Jervohl grinned, "You have frequently boasted of being able to best him at any skill with your hands tied and a blindfold over your eyes. You think him useless and self-indulgent."

"Perhaps a little confident in himself, but never self-indulgent!" Dervina didn't know where to look. She was a warrior, not a diplomat. Her job was the cohort of assassins that answered only to her and to Gildred. She was the head of his personal guard! She should have stayed in bed.

"Self-indulgent," Jervohl insisted, "And useless." She couldn't help grinning wickedly as the older fae tried to formulate some kind of neutral reply. She just watched her, waiting for the coin to drop. It didn't.

Dervina was in such a state, she was all but lying through her teeth. Jervohl was saved from placating her by the entry of the Lady Pandora, who took one look at the sudden panic in brown eyes and allowed some of her customary sharpness to subside a little. Dervina calmed under her kindness and said all the right things that Braan had told her to say.

Jervohl made her excuses when she felt a strong ordered magic shift in the Castle. It meant that Gildred was on the move. She did not particularly want to run into him, but she would not run away either. She meant to make sure that their paths did not cross, just to save both herself and Gildred from the embarrassment of meeting again. So she made her way to the stables, intending to find a mount that could take her away for the day. But the black-maned koern that barked at her was such an unexpected and welcome surprise that she hastened to his stall without a thought, exclaiming over him with the same devout pleasure that he seemed to show for her.

A few minutes, she told herself, just so she could make friends with Hastur again.

The koern shook his big head and nipped at her fingers with his sharp teeth, knowing well enough to be gentle with this fae. He swished a long, serpentive tongue out to sooth any hurt he might have caused, purring contentedly when she scratched him behind the ear.

Serenity whickered and laid back her ears, almost bouncing defiantly in her spacious stall at being so ignored for one of those ugly creatures.

Jervohl never paid her the least mind as she continued to rub the dark mane and down over the strong spine. "Perfect condition as always," she exulted, "No wounds since the last time, Hastur. You have had a peaceful time, I think."

The koern began to make a curious sound like a purr and a yip. It sounded as though someone were ripping a length of cloth in sharp bursts. Jervohl stiffened and turned around, meeting a pair of grey eyes with as much defiance as she could muster. The pointed tip of a two-edged sword was pointed at the exact centre of her sternum. She knew that sword; it was always sharp enough to slice through a hair at a touch. Gildred could not afford it to be otherwise.

And it was currently almost touching her.

She stood still and waited.

"The second time in a year, Ms. Jervohl," Gildred said mirthlessly, "Almost worth being in this infested country."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"No? I have a sword pointed at you in your brother's Castle and you will not even tell me to lower it? Or do you think I just won't use it?"

Jervohl sighed and raised a silver ribboned hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I know you will use it if you must," she said ruefully, "But I hardly think you will use it here."

The smallest hint of a smile told her all she wanted to know. Jervohl knew that smile. For so long she had fought his reigns, hating the coldness and the savage boundaries he put up around her. Of all the things she disliked, it was an order. Her pride was great, but Gildred's was greater. She had allowed it finally, too tired to fight. And he had held out a hand to pick her off the floor and smiled that quick twist of the lips at her. It was very rare, that smile.

"Besides," she continued, daring to grow bolder with every second, "You would not dare hurt an unarmed maiden, would you?"

"So helpless, my Jervohl?" he teased, lowering the weapon, "Less than a year and you remember too little of what I taught you. How will you survive returning with me? Never mind. If I keep you close to me, no one will have the gall to harm you."

Survive… return… close…? Jervohl's jaw dropped and her eyes almost fell out of her head.

It was not an attractive look for her and had Gildred not already been hopelessly in love, he might have found it quite off-putting. As it was, he only put the sword back in its scabbard and set it carefully against the wall of the stable. And then he just waited, the smile growing to an even rare look of pleasure on his face.

"Never," she finally gasped.

"I am afraid you have no choice in it," Gildred said brutally, "The arrangements will be made with your brother by the end of the week. Jareth has already called for your Council to meet, and there he will announce a new era of tolerance between our kingdoms, cemented by the marriage between the Outlaw King and the Goblin King's sister."

"They will never… _he_ will never… how… Jareth said…" Jervohl was having trouble breathing, let alone talking.

"My dear, if you do not calm down, you will turn purple," the outlaw soothed, "Come here." He took her by the shoulders to support her and rubbed her back, trying to get her to steady herself. "It will work out. You shall see."

"I…" she took a deep breath and tried again, "I have no intention of marrying you, My Lord. What put such an unlikely idea in your head, I will never know. But no! I will do no such thing."

"You have, as I said, no choice in the matter."

She gasped in fury and then brought the heel of her shoe down hard on his foot, ramming her elbow backwards until Gildred let go of her very swiftly. The male let out a quiet sound half of distress and half of amusement and stepped back, shaking the pain from his foot.

No choice, indeed! A mockery of everything that Jervohl had dreamed of and never once hoped for. She did not belong in his world. He had said that himself, the last time she had seen him. She despised him. She hated him completely- never mind that she loved him as much- and she was prepared to remember exactly how he had taught her to put a hole in someone's face. A quiet wish and the sword in the scabbard came to her hand. She tossed the scabbard lightly away and held the weapon with perfect balance.

Gildred waited, patiently, watchfully.

Jervohl looked at the sword and dropped it tiredly. She couldn't bring herself to use it against him. "What am I to say to you?"

Gildred kicked the sword with the toe of his boot- a shocking action of disrespect for such a graceful weapon- and left it where it was. But he didn't approach her. He didn't want to push her too far. That wasn't what he was aiming to do, at least. "The first time I saw you, you spat in my face and I hit you."

"I remember."

"The second time _you_ hit _me_ and I had your hands tied behind your back for three days. You went without eating, drinking, or changing out of those disgracefully torn clothes."

"I would not ask for help."

He looked up, smiling the same smile but with an entirely different meaning to it. "After everything I did to you, it was still very easy to imagine that you were really in service to me."

Jervohl snorted and took the ribbon off her hand. It was an archaic symbol of non-marital status.The tradition had been fading when she was first a youngfemale and she was one of the few that still wore it now. Traditions changed, even in the Underground, and no one thought it was very important anymore for unmarried females to advertise their availability for mating. Jervohl would not advertise it here.

Gildred wasn't lost to why she would remove the ribbon so distinctly from her left hand. "You are no longer available," he interpreted, "Jareth did not tell me this."

"Jareth," Jervohl snapped, "Is an interfering old hen. He would do better to keep his nose out of my business and _you_ would do better to not rely on his advice. Sanity knows he has never done more than confuse an issue."

Gildred looked confused as well. "What are we talking about?" he asked, "I was only saying that Jareth mentioned that you were lonely. He said you seemed to miss working as you had done under my command. What were _you_ saying?"

Jareth hadn't set this up? Jervohl opened and closed her mouth indecisively. "I was not saying very much," she excused, "Just that Jareth is not the best person to take advice from."

"I was not taking advise from him," Gildred protested, "But I came to find you, hoping to make peace when the Lady Pandora found me."

The Lady Pandora! Jervohl wanted to shout 'aha' and then burst into hysterical laughter all at once. Trust her mother to be the interference. And just what had the Lady Pandora told Gildred about her daughter? She already knew entirely too much; Jervohl had told her too much. What if she had blatantly threatened Gildred into making such an absurd proposal. Funny to think of the Outlaw King… Outlaw King!

"You are declaring a Kingship?" she asked, caught by the sudden news, "When did you decide? I cannot believe you are finally agreeing. Braan has been attempting to persuade you for years."

Gildred shrugged. "He has always wanted it. Few other leaders have managed to consolidate the lands as I have. But they are still essentially separate settlements. I think the only way to really bring them together in any cohesive manner will require me to make this a Kingdom. They will fight it."

"You have the powerstone," Jervohl pointed out softly, nodding to the medallion hidden inside the neck of his shirt.

"The better to impose the command on them," he agreed.

Hastur grunted plaintively and Serenity whinnied restively. Both fae jumped at the interruptions and then broke off the conversation, a little embarrassed by such a display of fighting and emotion. Gildred was not wont to deport himself in such a manner. Only in the Goblin Kingdom, he pondered, had he ever found a reason to lose his calm confidence and behave like an instinctive idiot.

He searched out carefully and followed the careful chaos patterns in his mind to where Jareth was located. If he were not mistaken, and Gildred thought to himself that he rarely was, the Goblin King was in a bit of sorry situation as well. Not love, naturally, because that was too strong an emotion. But certainly in lust. And such an unusual candidate!

But then, the Goblin King had already displayed a taste for being emotionally involved with mortals. Gildred couldn't understand why. Magically, they had no ability. Most of them could not even conceive of magic. Why they were of any concern at all was anyone's guess. If he had his way, the entire dimension would be sealed away from the earth plane and kept safe from the 'snatchgrab' of humanity.

And yet humans could be quite useful in their small ways. A little training and a little guidance and Toby would make an admirable lieutenant. Not a general, of course, because he was not the sort of person that Gildred would ever want in charge of his forces. But as an executor of commands he would be talented. Yes. He would be good to have in training, a big man like that with a strict sense of loyalty.

Not that Gildred fooled himself into believing Toby would ever consent to have anything to do with him. The mortal thought well of him, but disliked Gildred's policies. That was made abundantly clear when Jareth warned him to steer clear of the subject in Toby's hearing.

"He might hit you," the Goblin King had warned, "And I will not tolerate your hitting him back."

So Jareth cared, evidently. Well and good. Let him care.

Gildred sighed and moved out of Jervohl's direct line of escape. He held her gaze for as long as it was upon him and then he watched as she walked away, pride firmly straightening her shoulders and lifting her eyes. She would not bow.

Toby… Gildred scratched his head and thought about that. Toby would bow. If he felt it justified. Jervohl would fight for the hell of it, just so that it was understood that she was not some meek and mild little milk-and-water miss. Gildred liked that. Jareth, on the other hand, seemed to treat rejection with respect and submission with impatience. Such a peculiar coupling of persons- one of which was comprised of several personalities in reserve- would never work.

But it was not his problem. It was up to the Goblin King, his ward and the female they both counted as their mother. A bizarre situation all around.

Gildred pushed the entire thing out of his mind and let Hastur out of his stall. The koern flexed powerful shoulders and scraped long claws down the wooden floor. He stood fully past Gildred's shoulder, a monster of an animal, with a long silver scar down the right flank from a battle a long while ago. Hastur rubbed his muzzle against Gildred's shoulder and curled a long tail around his leg. It was comfort of sorts, for the disappointment.

Gildred accepted a few moments of it and then pushed Hastur away. "Come," he ordered, "I think the famous Tanglewood Forest will be a new challenge for you today. Let us see how you handle it."

He swung up onto the broad back, clasping tight with his knees and thighs. A piercing whistle and the creature bounded away like an arrow, silent and soundless as he was trained to be in movement.


	53. On Another Note

"The Council is convened, Sire."

Jareth nodded vaguely but didn't move from his seat at his desk. He was still busy scribbling and his hand and eyes had yet to leave the paper.

Gonzo waited patiently.

"Have the Duke sent to me first," Jareth said suddenly, "Alone."

"Now, Sire?"

"Now."

"Yes, Sire." Gonzo bowed and shut the door carefully. He stood outside for a moment and mopped his brow, wishing that the Goblin King could be a little more consistent. These unpredictable bouts of duty were too tiring for a goblin of his sensibilities. His wife had always said he wasn't cut out for the job. She had told him. Gonzo scowled at the wall and straightened his coat. What did his wife know?

The twitch in a corner alerted his attention.

"Gibil," he roared, grabbing the smaller goblin by the neck and shaking him, "What are you doing here? Why are you here? What did you hear? How dared you!" He boxed Gibil's ears and dropped him to the floor.

The little goblin squeaked in fear and tried to run away.

Straight into Jareth's slender, shapely leg.

Gibil fell over, and couldn't find it in himself to even squeak any more. Most goblins had some sort of noise to signify fear. Gibil was a coward. And he was tiny. There were very little that he could do if someone decided that he needed to be in several different pieces. So he squeaked. But when his eyes bulged out of the sockets and his tattered ears quivered straight into the air and his jaw hung almost to his chest without emitting a sound, then it was obvious that he was more affected than normal.

Jareth glared down at him with thinned lips, hands on hips and giving no appearance of dismissing him as he usually did.

"Sire, this goblin was caught eavesdropping," Gonzo snapped, poking a righteous finger at the back of Gibil's head.

"Was he?" Jareth tilted his head. "Gibber, was it? I think we need to have a little talk."

Gibil was so scared he didn't even correct the mispronunciation of his name. His name didn't matter. It wasn't important. It was the state of his person that Gibil was more concerned with. Gibil could stand his name to be mutilated, but not his limbs. No self-respecting creature wanted to be parted from their heads, no matter what the fieries thought.

"Get up, you silly crow," Gonzo hissed, "His Majesty is waiting."

"Gonzo, I have yet to meet with the Duke," Jareth said pointedly. Gonzo fled. Then the fae turned and walked into his study.

Gibil picked himself off the floor and bravely decided to run away. He barely moved one foot when a voice in his ear said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," and vanished. He cringed but crept cautiously to the study. Jareth was back in his seat and scribbling furiously. He looked up just once but it was only to pick up a report on the far side of the desk and consult it about something.

"S-Sire, I is sorry," the poor thing attempted.

"Shut the door."

Gibil shut the door and crept another step into the room.

Jareth finished, signed his name, shut the ledger and put it aside. He then put down his pen very carefully and turned in his chair. "Sit down, Gibil," he said pleasantly.

The goblin found a chair appearing just under him and his legs gave out with the shock, depositing him in an untidy heap in the cushioned seat.

"We need to have a little talk, you and I," Jareth said again, "You see, I do not like be spied upon. And you have been doing it for a very long time, now." Gibil's squeak returned with a vengeance. He gave such a loud one, it made the Goblin King raise an enquiring eyebrow. "You are not _scared_, are you, Gibil?"

The goblin squeaked again- this time softly to himself- and cowered.

Jareth almost smirked. He quite enjoyed the effect that he had on the goblins. Most of them would do anything in world to keep him happy. An unhappy Jareth meant a Jareth that would not hesitate to take his unhappiness out on his goblins. They were still divided as to whether he was merely forbidding, or a devil. He guessed Gibil had regarded him as the former until this little escapade.

"Come, come, Gibber," he mocked, "What is the worst I could do to you? Throw you into the Bog… an oubliette… to the rock monster in the Labyrinth or a fire monster in the forest…"

Gibil began to gnaw on his fingernails in fright.

Jareth sighed and shook his head. Even he was not so evil. And he was inclined to be less angry with the goblin and more inclined to finding him useful. "Stop biting your nails, you filthy creature," he said in goblin, "I am not about to hurt you. Assist me in a little matter and I will let you go free."

Gibil took his nail out of his mouth, but looked woefully bewildered. Big words confused him. Goblins didn't like being confused; it messed with their inane sense of assurance. Plus, Jareth's big words were frightening because Gibil didn't think he could dare to be confused.

Jareth stifled another sigh, a deeper one this time. "I will ask you questions and you will answer them," he said tersely, "And you will tell no one of any of this. No one! Do I make myself clear?"

"Y- yes, Sire."

"Alright. Stop shivering. It is not cold. Are you friends with Mr. Williams?"

Gibil blinked tragic, dark eyes. This wasn't such a hard question. "No, Sire," he said honestly.

"No? Hmmm. I was certain he spoke kindly of you."

"He speak with me, Sire, but not friendly, oh no." Gibil was very firm about that. "We is not friends, Sire, no. How can we is friends? I serve Mr. Williams, Sire. He being good to me."

Jareth rolled his eyes and tried to think of how to phrase what he had to say. "He is good to a lot of people," he agreed, "Pity take the poor fool. Have you ever overheard a talk I have had in private and repeated it to him?"

"No, Sire!" Gibil was shocked, he really was.

"Gibil, you have three seconds by the count of the clock to tell me the truth. Or I will tip you straight into the Bog of Eternal Stench before you can blink."

The four clocks obligingly began to tick even louder, so out of tune and out of sync with each other that it was impossible to tell when the three seconds began or ended. Gibil fell out of the chair and onto the floor, covering his head and his ears quivering like antennae.

"I is sorry, I is sorry," he wailed, "I never meant no harm! I only told Mr. Williams so he couldn'ts finds out."

Jareth rubbed his eyes. "_What_ did you tell Mr. Williams," he prompted. This was giving him a headache already and they were barely beginning.

"I- I- I can'ts," Gibil whispered wretchedly.

Jareth never underestimated the power of fear. Unfortunately, fear sometimes made people say less when it overwhelmed them. Therefore it did neither of them any good for him to keep threatening the truth out of Gibil. So he wiped the coldness from his face and settled for merely looking stern. He softened his voice and he leaned forward intimately, offering a lifeline almost by stretching out his hand. He compromised with himself by leaving the glove on, but that went without saying.

"If you tell me," he promised, "No harm will come to you." Tragic dark eyes peeped up from over trembling hands. "I will not hurt you," he clarified.

Gibil sat up and stroked the leather glove, not even considering that it was there to help him off the floor. It was a reverential touch, as if he was touching something that he treasured. Most goblins treasured their King, no matter who had the throne at any given time. "Your Majesty saids that he didn't like Mr. Williams, Sire. Your Majesty said so."

Jareth took his hand away, uncomfortable already. "I see. When was this?"

Gibil shrugged and hid his head again.

"With who was I talking?" Jareth urged.

"The Lady Pandora."

Jareth recalled the incident. That had been the tense time in the middle there, when Toby had called him a whore and he had blinded the mortal for it. Not a good time at all. So that was what Toby meant about 'spies'. Jareth appraised the little goblin looking tragically up at him from the floor. Completely untrustworthy, he surmised, a gossip and a coward and the last person anyone would ever expect had the gall to eavesdrop on conversations not meant for his ears. It was sheer genius! There had to be something about Toby Williams that inspired loyalty in almost every goblin he met- Gibil, Mrs. Bonn, the other servants both in the Lady Pandora's palace and in the Castle.

Jareth twisted his impressions of the other male, trying to reconcile this new piece of work. Toby was easy to understand, but there were bits of the mortal that did not quite fit. "Thank you, Gibil, you may go."

Gibil ran for the door and only stopped to shut it after him before continuing on down to the kitchens.

Jareth sat still and thought. Toby was a well brought up man, with a wealth of common sense and logic and the conventional indulgences. He liked activity- perfectly understandable, considering his apparent need to be of continuous service to anyone in the near vicinity. This, in turn, took care of his obvious self-oblivion and his ability to get on with anyone at all. To top it off, Toby was just a genuinely likable man! He said nothing that was untoward, he acted with perfect politeness and just the right shade of familiarity, and he didn't even think anything that strayed from the path of conservative moderation.

Then why was it, he growled to himself, that the man had short, sudden sequences that made no sense! Why insist, at the start of the year, that he would never intentionally convert? He counted the Underground as his home. His family were fae. He had lived here since he was nine and there was nothing that the Aboveground offered him that Toby seemed inclined to want. Then why insist on his mortality?

Jareth didn't understand it. He hadn't had the time to give it much thought.

And then there was the way that Toby did not want anyone to know about the supposed relationship they were indulging in. Jareth added the word 'supposed' to the thought because they had yet to begin anything. The deal had been made. They had agreed to all terms and conditions. But they had yet to try. Jareth was just never in the mood and Toby never once came to his room. They were almost… friends! And wasn't that a scary thought! Any more and Jareth might be lulled into considering Toby almost in the light of a younger brother. Like Dieter.

And then there were certain things that set Toby off. Things that might be said by anyone with all good intentions and Toby would burn the barest hint of pink and look horribly casual. It obviously upset him. Jareth suspected that it was to do with his physical appearance. Yet Toby didn't seem to be lacking in confidence. It couldn't be that.

The heavy tread of feet announced the arrival of the Duke and Jareth put the thoughts away for another time. He had another matter on hand. Really! The last twelve months were the most eventful ones he had ever endured. It was quite a change of pace from his usually austere life. On certain levels he was quite happy to sit back and see where it took him.

"Duke Bevil," he greeted, "Come in. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you."

"Your Majesty," the Duke said, bowing deeply.

Jareth's mouth twitched. Before coming to his senses, he had made a mental bet on whether or not the Duke's wig was in danger of falling off. The wig didn't fall off, so Jareth won.

"I am completely at your disposal."

His sense of humour was going too far. Jareth had to swallow a bark of laughter over that line. Oh, he wouldn't mind disposing of the Duke. But even the Bog wouldn't tolerate his sour face!

"Your Majesty?"

Jareth swallowed one last time and allowed his blandest smirk to grace his face. "Pardon me. I was momentarily distracted by another issue. Which brings me back to the issue in question. I asked to speak with you in private because my sister is intending to get married."

"Is she indeed?" The Duke looked honestly delighted. He rubbed his hands together obsequiously and almost bounced where he stood. "All congratulations, of course, Your Majesty."

Jareth shrugged nonchalantly. "Why? _I_ am not getting married."

The Duke looked confused and then laughed a bright laugh. "Aha, Your Majesty, your sense of humour; yes. But," he bravely wagged a finger at the Goblin King, "It is high time that you undertook such a sacred office yourself."

Jareth was now thoroughly annoyed. The little shrimp was a pain. Jareth longed to chase him away, preferably with something heavy. "Yes," he said shortly, "However, one sacred office at a time is enough for me. About my sister…"

"Ah, but a proper female to live with you in respect and harmony is what you need, if I may say so. A loving family. Children, even. I am sure you would make a wonderful father."

Jareth took a deep breath and a hard hold of the nearest paperweight. "I am sure," he said, determined to steer the conversation around without being rude.

But the Duke had a thick hide. "Yes, it would be the perfect example of domestic happiness," he meditated, "A handsome female would be the perfect counterpart to your- pardon my forwardness- your autocracy. A soft touch, as it were, to gentle the sharpness."

Jareth bit the inside of his lip. He endured the conversation in silence only because the masochistic side of himself couldn't stand _not_ to flagellate himself with such a discussion while Sarah's photograph was so near to hand. He tormented himself with those few visions that he allowed himself to entertain of what their ideal life might have been like. And the other side of him let the Duke continue only because he couldn't believe how someone could hold such archaic views.

Females were not intended by nature to be locked up in the kitchen or the bedroom, waiting to be some use in breeding or housework. It was insulting to even think of such a thing! Some females were, it was true, happy to involve themselves with children and the household. There was nothing wrong with that. Jareth held a deep respect for those like Lady Harenet, who were born to be the quiet support of large families. But then there were others, like Sarah- like Jervohl!- who could not and would not be happy if their bodies were filled and their minds left empty.

The Duke was asking for a proper booting.

Jareth's control was slipping. When the Duke began to suggest possible candidates for him to mate with, he almost threw the paperweight in his hand. The gentle tap at the door was the only thing that broke the red haze.

"Come in," he yelled.

Toby came in with a perfectly innocent look of concern on his honest face. "Jareth, has something gone wrong? The Council awaits… oh. Forgive me, Duke. I did not see you."

Innocence be damned! From the wicked gleam in those blue eyes- and Jareth fancied he knew how to read those eyes better than anyone else in the room- Toby had probably stood outside the door and heard most of this ridiculous stupidity. For that, if nothing, Jareth's blood cooled. Toby must have been splitting his sides trying not to laugh out loud.

"Brat," he said cryptically, "Duke Bevil, if you could leave aside my unattached status for one moment, I shall endeavour to finish what I had originally intended to say. What I should have said, was that she has an offer of marriage from the King of the Outlawed Lands."

"WHAT?"

"Calm yourself, My Lord Duke. Toby, ring for some water. The Duke seems to be choking."

Toby obligingly pulled the bellpull and watched as Jareth patted the Duke on the back.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Duke whispered, agitated and purple in the face, "Marry an outlaw? It is madness! And what do you mean- the King of the Outlawed Lands? The outlaws have no King! It is why they are outlaws!"

"In point of fact, Gildred will declare himself King and consolidate the territories to a Kingdom," Jareth explained sweetly, still patting because he longed to let his hand fly and just thump the old fool a good one on the back of his fat head. "It is just a formality. Gildred has been King in all but name for many years now. He proposes to take Jervohl as his mate."

"Water, please," Toby murmured quietly, bending down to whisper in the ear of the goblin that had answered the summons, "The Duke has had a brief shock." The goblin nodded, bowed and ran away.

"This is an outrage," the Duke continued, wheezing, "She cannot marry him. That is my final verdict."

Toby frowned. "Forgive my intrusion, but I would think this a good match," he ventured.

"A good match? _A good match_?" The Duke was going purple again. "Young man, this is no such thing! Ms. Jervohl cannot allay herself with such- such a thief!"

"I was not aware that Gildred was a thief," Jareth pointed out pedantically, "His father was. His mother was a cheat. He was born there, a perfectly healthy- and seemingly moral- fae. Surely you cannot blame his parents' sins on him?"

"He is the leader of those thieves and cutthroats, Your Majesty. That makes him one by proxy. No. I shall not tolerate it. I will not give my consent to this."

Toby compressed his lips and kept out of it.

"If I am not mistaken, Gildred was _elected_ to lead them because the Fortress- a power as strong as the Labyrinth- chose him to bear the powerstone."

"And he has proceeded to be a tyrant and a dictator, culpable of vicious deeds."

"To avoid even worse," Jareth sighed, "If you would like me to be perfectly truthful."

The Duke turned a burning gaze on him. "Are you condoning this?"

"I am. If she accepts his proposal- and I have reason to believe she might be persuaded- then I will not only see her married to Gildred, but I give my blessing to the union. If not for her, then for my country. Politically, there is unrest. We need to form a truce with the emerging Outlaw Kingdom, to avail ourselves of their assistance in such time as we need it."

"No one will accept it."

"Why not? Gildred is a personable fae. He professes love and respect for my sister. He offers to keep her in the luxury to which she is accustomed. And this match will mean certain advantages for the Underground."

"He is a corrupt influence!"

"As am I," Jareth interrupted. It was loud enough to halt any more babbling. "And yet," the Goblin King added, lowering his voice, "And yet you have just spent five minutes pushing innocent young females a century younger than I am into my arms and my bed. Your hypocrisy astounds me."

The Duke caught his breath. "I always knew you were heartless," he finally said, "But I was not prepared for this. To sell your own sweet sister, after all she has been through, back to that rogue and traitor. It is no wonder that the girl killed herself rather than accept you."

It was a cheap blow. To do him justice, the Duke was never this cruel. He was pompous and he was thick-skinned and he tended towards narrow-mindedness. But he was not cruel. It was a measure of how angry and disgusted he was that he even introduced such a convoluted insult.

Unfortunately, he was in a room where neither of the two males would let such a horrid thing pass.

Toby snatched up the male and slammed him hard against the wall of the study, seething in a fury at the dishonour done to his sister's memory. "One more word," he growled, "And I will make you eat your own tongue. My sister was no fool, My Lord Duke. And His Majesty, my _guardian_, is not one either. What happened between them happened. IF you have anything to say about it, I will invite you to say it to me. Then I may have the honour of ramming your stupidity down your bloody throat."

He dropped the Duke, scoffing openly as the wig slipped askew. He silently opened the door and the Duke fled, just one of the many that day that had done so.

Jareth was still leaning against his desk, breathing deeply and eyes closed as he concentrated. It was no good being angry. It was the wrong reason to allow the chaos to slip free. He kept his tongue and his temper, reasoning it out in his head until the anger faded quietly to a dull ache.

Toby's hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry," the mortal whispered, "It was wrong of him to say such a thing."

Jareth nodded and rested his head tiredly against a broad shoulder. It was easy to take comfort from Toby. If he pretended hard enough, he could pretend to see similarities between the two. When he finally lifted his head, he found Toby had picked up the photograph on his desk with one hand and was hungrily devouring it with his eyes.

"One day," the fae mentioned, "Remind me to tell you about her. For now we must attend Council. Gildred will attend by my side. Gonzo will take notes. I only need you to stop me killing anyone. Can you do that?"

"I can do that," Toby laughed, "If you can stop me strangling the Duke the next time I see him."

"A deal." Jareth couldn't resist just another two minutes of rest and since Toby didn't protest, he extended it by another minute again. But there was no point to stalling. And the more he thought about it, the more Jareth wanted to be at that Council. He wanted to see their faces when they heard the news and saw Gildred. He wanted to hear their usual objections to outlaws. He wanted the pleasure of ripping them all down to size, matching wits with some of the smartest minds in the Underground. And ultimately, he wanted to win this game.

"Come along," he sighed, "We can continue this later."


	54. Yes

Author's Note: A gillped is a furry little creature with a squashed face and cabbage ears. It looks a bit like Crookshanks, Hermione's cat from 'Harry Potter', only it isn't a cat, doesn't have a tail and it walks upright on two legs. A bit like Ludo in miniature.

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"You are really going through with this," Jervohl asked anxiously.

Gildred cast her an expressive glance and nodded curtly. He bent down to meet Braan eye-to-eye and smiled. "Are you finally happy? This is what you have always wanted."

"To meet the Council for the Underground?" Braan laughed, "You must not be in your right mind, My Lord. Though I should, perhaps, call you Your Majesty."

"Naturally. A King is to be addressed in the appropriate fashion," Dervina put in, "Your Majesty, are you certain that you have no need for me today?"

Three pairs of eyes looked at Jervohl. The fae sighed in long-suffering fashion and motioned to them to continue talking, regardless of her presence.

"It is not that I suspect anyone in the Underground of harbouring ill-will towards you…"

"Ha!" Braan put in bracingly.

"… But the, er, show of ceremony on our behalf might make the entire concept a little more real to them. They, after all, are absolutely ignorant of our ways. They might not realize just how momentous the occasion is."

"I think they are sufficiently aware," Jervohl warned, "The very definition of so many of those banished from the Underground was that they were against a King. For you to now announce a monarchy is- is a _little_ shocking. Which is to say, most of them would be surprised and shout a lot, even if they already call you the tyrant king in all but name." Belatedly she realized what she had said.

Gildred looked inordinately proud of the backhanded compliment. "Then I think I am ready. Where is Jareth?"

"He instructed me to bring you straight to the Council where he will announce you," Jervohl said, a touch more formally, "Pray excuse us. I think we should make haste."

Gildred consented to be led away.

Dervina and Braan shared a mutual look of pleasure. "I bet you a hundred gold that he will have her answer by this evening," Braan said quickly.

"Ah, no, my friend. Jervohl is not the type to succumb so easily. I say he will have to wait a week," Dervina laughed, "For the actual answer, of course. No fond declarations of caring, no shared looks of longing. It will be a week before Gildred will demand that she return to our lands as his bride."

"And our fair maiden will have no say?"

"Have you known His Lordship to ask?"

"Fair enough. A hundred gold coins, then. This is a binding note."

"I understand," Dervina sighed, holding out her rough hand.

They shook on it, solemn-faced even as they relished the amusement. These bets had been a tacit tradition for the last four years, when Madigh had spitefully pointed out in a closed meeting that the young female was paying Gildred too much mind. Jervohl had, thankfully, not been present. But it was the reaction to this typically tedious ranting that had set these two tongues wagging- Gildred had magically thrown Madigh into the farthest wall of the tiny room with such force, the male had suffered a minor head injury.

Braan touched the pendant around his neck in thoughtful reflection. Madigh had his uses. He was a good general. His information system was immaculate; no one else had ever built such a network. He was loathed, yes, but for good reason. Only, Braan didn't like him. If it were up to him, he would never have elected to have Madigh take such an important position. But Gildred was King- or would be- and Gildred's word was law.

Gildred was not quite certain that his word would count very much in his current situation. The Goblin King had met them at the entranceway to the Hall, still closely shadowed by his ward. And Gildred was just dying to ask a few questions about _that_ relationship, but he didn't dare. Instead, he tightened his grip on Jervohl's hand and ignored her attempts to pull away by taking her with him into the Council.

Jareth didn't look surprised. He went in first. Toby came in last and shut the door behind him. He silently kept a blank face as to Jervohl's predicament and had another chair set for her by Gildred's right hand. To her worried look, he only shook his head slightly in shared confusion.

Jareth watched all of this with a perfectly straight face, ignoring the silent group of senior advisers that stood respectfully in his presence. He was far too busy keeping a grin hidden at the sight of his sister's distress. Then he beckoned his ward over to his left and finally decided to get the entire boring ordeal finished. "Sit," he sighed, gesturing with one hand.

The congregation bowed- in varying ways- and then sat. The chatter broke out almost immediately.

"Your Majesty," a merman was already on his feet, webbed hands folded before him in defiance, "You cannot be serious! Lord Gildred cannot be privy to a private Council!"

"Your Majesty," a dwarf had bounced up onto his chair and struck a dramatic pose, "Your Majesty, we must insist. We will not allow this. None but true citizens of the Underground may enter the Council! It is law and I can point to the relevant passages."

Toby's brows rose in surprise as he looked from the silent fae beside him to the frantic mass before them.

Gildred clicked his tongue in distaste and grimaced. In his Kingdom- or soon to be Kingdom- if anyone had dared to accost him in such a disrespectful manner, he would have personally had sewn their mouths shut. He was itching to order it from his medallion, but decided not to. It wouldn't be the best way to introduce himself.

"Your Majesty, we should have been informed… Your Majesty, this is madness… Your Majesty, you are not serious…."

Jareth waited patiently and began to hum to himself as he played with two crystals. He didn't even look up when the shouting grew louder. This had happened before and contrary to appearances, Jareth was giving them all his full attention. But he didn't want them to know that. The two crystals he was playing with showed different Council members as he thought of them, allowing him to watch them closely as he let their loud words sink in.

The Council was not happy about Gildred's presence. The Council was off-balance and in a panic. The Council had other work that needed to be seen to.

Jareth made a mental note to keep them all an extra day. He would have to finish this business sooner or later, but he wasn't stupid enough to run through private work with Gildred sitting next to him. This matter with Jervohl would have to be done first. And then the Council would probably have to be dismissed for the rest of the day to let the shock sink in. And tomorrow- back to normal.

Toby shifted uncomfortably, unconsciously moving closer to Jareth as he noticed the images in the crystals.

"Look closer," his guardian whispered suddenly, "The fools think I am ignoring them all. That way they scream louder and betray themselves further. An effective probe, do you not think?"

Toby looked at the crystal he was given and shook his head in exasperation. Sometimes he wondered just why Jareth had to make things more difficult. Effective probe, indeed!

"Your people are rowdy," Gildred commented, laying a hand on Jareth's arm, "My teeth are on edge and I might bite anytime soon."

Jareth nodded and banished the crystal. He held up a gloved hand and this time glared at them long enough that they got the message. The Duke and his two assistants were seated at a table directly in front of the shallow steps, waiting to be called on for their moral guidance. The rest of the members were seated at long tables that ran a good way down the sides of the long hall. But not too far. Not so far that they were unable to be heard or seen.

The Lady Pandora was not in attendance. She had sent for another lady well respected by the fae community to take her place. With her son as the King and her daughter's marriage as an issue, the Lady Pandora did not relish being accused of having an unhealthy advantage in the Council. So she stayed away, diligently refusing to get involved.

Toby wished he had done the same. Only, Jareth had asked.

"If you have all expended whatever energy you were cursed with this morning," Jareth snarked, "I would like to halt the usual process of business for an important political matter. Lord Gildred of Sky has graciously accepted my invitation to compose a truce between our Kingdom and his."

The shouting began again- "What Kingdom… He is an outlaw… We can trust nothing he says… What truce… The Outlaws have no Kingdom…"

Gildred growled and Jareth patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Silence!" he yelled.

The throng sat down again.

"My Lord Duke, is it befitting our people that we show such disrespect to a guest?" Jareth asked gently.

The Duke glared at his King, but stook up with stiff determination. "It is not, Your Majesty. And we apologize to Lord Gildred for our lack of good manners."

"Good," Gildred muttered. He tapped Jervohl on the hand and leaned closer to her. "What a sour-faced old gillped!"

"The Duke is very powerful, My Lord," Jervohl murmured back, "I would advise you not to antagonise him."

"Is _that_ the Duke?" Gildred contemplated for a few minutes. "He really _is_ a sour-faced old gillped."

Jareth's lips twitched but he gave no other sign of listening in to the conversation. Nodding at the Duke to sit, he settled down comfortably in his throne and crossed his legs. "Thank you, Duke Bevil. Now, if I may have the attention of the Council for a few minutes, I have certain news to relate. A few of you have sought to correct my mistake as to the Outlaw's state of land. In point of fact, Lord Gildred has just announced a Kingship and will consolidate the settlements under his reign. He comes to us, therefore, as a Nobleman and as my equal. It is my intention to seek truce with the Outlaws and to form an alliance."

The throng got to their feets.

Jareth overturned the tables on them- literally.

They subsided again, suitably chastised.

"In my opinion, irrelevant though it may seem," he resumed ironically, "This will allow us to trade certain necessities with them. Necessities such as protection?" He raised an eyebrow at the lot of them, reminding them subtly that the halt of hostilities would not only remove their biggest enemy but would give them an almost legendary military to call upon.

The elementals, the dwarves, the fae, the centaur, the merpeople, the elves and the mixed elementals all shuffled their feet and looked down at the overturned tables.

"In return," Jareth agreed swiftly, "We will also provide them with skilled labourers and food materials that cannot grow in their arid soil. We will assist in the building of infrastructure and we will trade in those little luxuries that have made our lives such a blessing, hmmm?"

The Elderman for the merpeople stood up silently and bowed, asking for permission to speak.

"Yes?"

"Your Majesty, it seems to me to be an unbalanced trade agreement. We have the certainty of military assistance for an unknown time when we might- _might_, mark you- need it. In turn, they have a share in produce that is still as necessary to us as it is to them."

"Unbalanced, you say." Jareth toyed with the riding crop he had picked up from nowhere. He appeared to be turning that over in his head, giving it a serious contemplation. And then he smirked and looked to his ward- "Toby? What is your opinion?"

The mortal was startled, shooting a disquietened look at the Goblin King before observing the disgruntled glare on the faces of the Council members. After all, he wasn't even a citizen of the Underground, for all the protection Jareth awarded him. He tried to think as clearly as he could, consciously shifting his mental perceptions to view all angles.

"It does seem unbalanced," he admitted, "Yet… it does not seem disadvantageous. The more assistance we provide to Lord Gildred's people," he elected not to use the word 'outlaw', "The more goodwill we foster. Which means that they will be more disposed to trading with us. Which is when we possibly could petition Lord Gildred for an open trade route between the two countries."

Buttress looked nonplussed. Jareth chuckled quietly to himself and clapped languidly with his gloved hands. "Good," he complimented, "Very good. A sound policy and one that I hope Gildred is not averse to?"

The outlaw leader shook his head, smiling an equally approving glimmer of a smile.

"However," Jareth broke in, "The policy is a long-term policy and one that might well take a minimum of ten years to achieve. What else, Toby?"

Toby glared at him, but Jareth's smirk only widened to show sharp teeth. "Lord Gildred's people have skills that we would do well to copy. Their medical aid is the best in our realm. Their military is also superior to ours in terms of skill and efficiency. I assume you will ask to have representatives update our own systems, both medical and military."

Jareth nodded, but continued to look enquiringly at him.

Toby thought some more, completely unaware of the way in which Gildred's smile was widening. Trust Jareth, the fae laughed inwardly, he had just tossed the entire burden of the trade agreement into someone else's lap. And in such a way that Toby wasn't even aware he was being burdened! He was simply trying to think as Jareth might, not realizing that Jareth didn't want to think at all.

"Lord Gildred's lands will add a balance to ours, the order limiting chaos and the chaos limiting order. Outlaws might cease to exist, if a system of prisoner exchange can be arranged. The most destructive chaos elements in our lands might be sent to Lord Gildred in order to be effectively contained. The same may be inverted, where your chaos rule may soften those obsessed with order."

Jareth's smile faded as he ran through that in his head. "I am impressed," he commented, pleasantly surprised. He hadn't thought of things from that angle. It occurred to him that Toby was out of ideas and grasping at straws. "Alright. All of those suggestions are certainly to be finalized. But there is one last thing that I will insist upon. It is non-negiable."

Jervohl felt Gildred stiffen beside her. She herself was not sure what Jareth was talking about. From the wild amusement in his eyes, she was busy trying not think of the many things he might possibly be referring to. She would kill him if he said something along the lines of Gildred taking her off his hands.

Jareth looked to the mountain sprites sitting so sullen, as far away as they could get. "I demand the return of the quarry and the immediate evacuation of all of your troops and settlers from that area of land. Apart from that," he shrugged, "There is nothing I have my heart set on."

Gonzo almost broke his pen, his hand jerked so hard in surprise. He stared in shock from the Goblin King to the mountain sprites. But Jareth had really done it. In one fell swoop, he had used an advantage to resolve a situation not even related to it! The goblin picked up his pen and finished the sentence shakily.

Gildred stood up and bowed first to the Goblin King before offering another to the assembly. It was the polite thing to do, even if Jareth didn't do it. "My Lords and Ladies," he began, "Gentlefolk of the Underground, I ask that you allow me to put aside our differences of the past and speak as an ally. We will be neighbours, and unthinkable though it now seems, we might as well act the part. That said, I agree to the immediate demand made upon me by His Majesty King Jareth. The quarry shall be returned. My troops will vacate by the end of the month."

The mountain sprites began to dance a jig and laugh.

Jareth sighed and covered his eyes with his hands in mortification. Gildred ignored them.

"But in my turn, I have one demand to make as well," Gildred said.

Jareth sat up straighter.

"I demand the right to ask Ms. Jervohl to return with me, as my wife." He looked coolly at Jareth, not even noticing the statue sitting wide-eyed on his other side.

Jareth laughed out loud and timidly his Council members joined in; uncertainly it was true, but they joined in. Toby winced in sympathy for the petrified female.

"A splendid idea," Jareth agreed, "You have my full permission."

The Duke sat quietly, imploding under the blood pounding in his ears.

"Ms. Jervohl?" Gildred turned to her and held out his hand, "A word, if you please."

"My Lord, will you stop," she hissed, "For pity's sake not now!"

"When else? You avoid me. You evade me. You stop me speaking when we do meet." He waited patiently for her. "You will certainly listen now."

Toby almost stood up, but kept himself well out of it. It wasn't his business and Jareth wouldn't thank him for sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. Even if he thought it wasn't fair to ambush her in such a public way.

The Duke was reaching the limits of his control.

"Ms. Jervohl?"

"My Lord, please?"

"Now, my dear."

"The lady has asked for a _private_ meeting," the water sprite snapped out loud, "Have you so little decency as torefuse that?"

Jareth's eyes flickered as they swept from his sister's flushed face to the Duke. He bit his tongue on a curse and stood up. "Sit down," he ordered, "And still your tongue."

"I will have my say, Your Majesty," the Duke said mulishly, "And I say no! I said it before, I say it again. I will not condone such a- a _breach_ of good manners. To even think of allowing such a humiliating proposal highlights my entire case in point."

Jareth stalked down the stairs and Toby got up with an oath and followed him. "Jareth," he muttered, grabbing an arm and anchoring, "Stay. Let him speak."

The Goblin King halted and looked down in distaste at the hand on his arm. It fell away almost instantly. "Restrain me again," he warned, "And I will have you arrested." He turned away from the mortal and took in the quivering water sprite with his most insolent gaze. "You. Have I asked for your opinion?"

"No, Your Majesty." Even the Duke knew when he had spoken out of turn.

"Have I called upon you in any way?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"And yet you dared to speak out without my express permission?" It was a hypocritical path to take; the entire Council had been doing it at frequent intervals. The Duke's fault was that he had raised valid concerns where Jareth didn't want to hear them.

The Duke said nothing.

"Sit down."

"Forgive my plain-speaking, Your Majesty, but you cannot dismiss the Duke's opinion out of hand." The fae Lady. This was certainly a problem now, for Jareth had always had the outward support of the fae, if only because of his race. "He is our elected leader in moral etiquette and I agree that such a humiliating experience is far out of the bounds of common decency."

"I see."

Toby waited quietly.

"Are you all of this opinion?"

Not many nodded, but the few that did were damagingly well placed.

Gildred looked from the mutinous Council to the female he was addressing. He raised an eyebrow and she flushed. "Even here," he commented, "You are the centre of dissent. I thought my court was only ill-equipped to deal with your presence."

"My Council," Jareth called back, "Is not ill-equipped. It is just blind."

He waited, looking from face to face, eye to eye. All of them in turn as he deliberated. "Do you expect me to feel ashamed?" he asked bluntly, "To back down?"

The Duke snorted. "You have not the courtesy."

Jareth didn't react. He merely smiled, a cool dangerous smile. "Have I not?" It was an encouraging sort of thing to say.

"But what else can one expect," the Duke spat, "From someone of your reputation!"

"My reputation. I see."

"A corrupt influence…"

"I admit to that."

"A profligate and a wastrel…"

"Words, My Lord Duke, words and words alone."

"A male with no morals, no shame, no sense of humility…"

"I am as I am and I was as I am before I ever became who I am."

"A trickster and a manipulative schemer…"

"Luckilythe job description of the Goblin King."

"An arrogant, ego-swollen waste of intelligence who is not only a danger to himself, but a danger to every innocent being that comes into contact with him. You are a danger, Your Majesty, and I no longer hesitate to say it."

Toby couldn't see Jareth's face. From the looks of fear- or the inability of so many to look the fae in the face- he assumed Jareth had reached his most forbidding. He felt a presence just behind him and he looked around, to find Gonzo hurriedly packing his things and making his fastest escape. Jervohl was frozen in her seat, conflicting looks of anger and fear warring in her eyes. Gildred was only watching; he would be no help.

Jareth turned around, deftly swept up the shallow stairs and took his throne again. "Jervohl, what say you to Lord Gildred's proposal?"

"There will be no proposal," the Duke shouted.

"Jervohl?" Gildred looked at the female. She was confused and panicked and his heart bled for her, but he hardened himself and gave her no way out. Or wait. He could give her one way out- "I hit you the first time," he told her, "But I loved you when you retaliated."

She blinked in surprise.

They might well have forgotten the world around them at that moment as she replayed that second meeting in her head. "You were brutal," she defended.

"It was a brutal world I lived in," he excused, "But you can fight me, my dear. I will take you if you will not agree."

"You will take me?"

"I will snatch you away without warning and carry you away to my fortress, yes. Do you doubt me? I _will_ have you to fight me; make no mistake about that."

"I will not sit home and sew buttons," she warned.

"I will not ask it of you. I need a warrior, an advisor. What say you?"

"I agree."

"No!" The Duke was adamant about that. "I will not see this happen."

Toby was bewildered. Jervohl was smiling up at Gildred as if all the talk about hitting and fighting was the most romantic thing she had ever heard. Jareth was studiously controlling himself; Toby could tell by the way his hands were clenched on the arms of the throne. Most of the Council had no idea what was going on and still that senile old fool kept shouting. The mortal told himself to go back to his seat, if only to silently offer his support to his guardian, as was right and proper. But his feet wouldn't move. The shouting was getting on his nerves, even when Jervohl took her new fiancé's hand and accepted the gentle hug he drew her into. He could guess the flash of bitterness in Jareth's eyes without even knowing why, the twisted ghost of a smile that would curl the corners of his mouth.

"My Lord Duke, if you would be so good as to stop shouting, we will all be the better for it," Toby said quietly.

The Duke shut up with a huff. "Another innocent," he remarked out loud, "Another life ruined."

Jareth was reminded of the elf he was to sentence for crimes he was still not sure of wanting to reveal. _'He ruined her brother's life as well.'_ It almost escaped his notice that Toby was speaking. A meandering word caught his attention and then Jervohl was looking worriedly at him over Gildred's shoulder, silently pleading with him to stop the madness.

"… further more, if you will insist of offering your archaic and narrow-minded opinions, it is to be hoped that you will at least see that they were well founded before you speak them aloud. I am in no way an innocent because, yes, I was in a relationship with another fae before I even turned twenty-five. Your inability to see me as mortal, and therefore well passed my coming-of-age, has led to a lot of trouble on His Majesty's behalf and given him the added burden of accepting my education as well as his other duties. If you will not see his good intentions for what they are- even cloaked in arrogance and manipulation- then you are clearly blind and unfit for the position you occupy."

Jareth wasn't used to being defended in public. Nor was he used to being portrayed as someone 'good'. He wasn't sure he liked it. "Toby…"

"Just a minute, Jareth. On another note, My Lord Duke, I have a deep respect for His Majesty King Jareth and far from being ruined, I swear allegiance to the Goblin King and offer my life in his service for as long as he shall need it. I suggest you pick another example to illustrate your poisonous thoughts."

"Toby!"

The mortal turned his head and caught the threatening glare. He left one last look at the Duke and kneeled before the throne. "Forgive my interruption, Your Majesty. Perhaps it will be best if I leave."

"It will be best if the Council brakes for this day. We will resume tomorrow. My servants will see to your needs." Jareth stood up and gestured the mortal to stand up. "Come with me. You two, are you sure?"

Gildred looked at Jervohl and she nodded solemnly.

"Praise be," the Goblin King growled, "Jervohl, the Lady Pandora will be awaiting you in her rooms. Gildred, I suggest you accompany her. If you could find your way to my study this evening, we will have the conditions of the truce drawn up by tonight."

He took Toby's arm and abruptly told him to steel himself. He took them both back to their original suite of rooms, barely waiting for Toby to adjust before he pushed him down into a chair. "What the devil did you mean by that display? Were you _trying_ to embarrass me?"

"They were wrong about you."

"They are right about me," Jareth grated, "I am no angel, Toby. I have no wish to be. I lie and I manipulate and ultimately I get what I want from people. If I have good intentions to certain people, it is only reflected in the final outcome and not in the methods I employ."

"You are not always like that."

Toby believed it, Jareth realized. All his care and attention had made Toby think he was always that caring and that attentive. Jareth smirked and prowled closer, throwing his gloves over his shoulder because he was well aware that Toby found his hands erotic and wasn't going to stop when if the mortal asked it. "You've only seen one side of me, then," Jareth murmured.

Toby backed away a little as those beautiful hands slipped through his hair to grip the back of his skull. In an instant, Jareth's mouth was insistent upon his, hot and demanding and completely ruthless. Toby wasn't used to such kisses. He opened his mouth only through sheer instinct. Jareth's tongue swept into his mouth as if conquering a land.

Rough, demanding tugs at his clothing and his body. Pulling him, pushing him, forcing him from the usual things he did to something a little more submissive. It wasn't submissive, really. But the part of Toby's mind that was still engaged in thought, suspected that Jareth wasn't even really that bothered with anything but his own needs.

A far cry from the fae that had been such a gentleman in bed for the previous nine months.

The bed wasn't too far and they reached it by the time they were mostly naked. Jareth encouraged his head lower with an imperious sort of push. Toby obliged, but didn't get very far before he was pulled up again and kissed as savagely as before. The Goblin King kept changing! He would hint at something and then demand something else. He seemed to like something else, but insisted on Toby's attention directed to the opposite direction.

Moreover, Jareth hadn't ever given any indication that he wanted to 'top'. It was a forgone conclusion that he liked to, really, even discarding the various stories told about him. But Toby had completely forgotten what it was like, since Luka rarely did it and Jareth seemed to like to be made love to.

Made love to!

Toby buried his nose in the pillow and groaned, though not because of the sudden nip at his shoulder as Jareth moved inside of him. His body accepted it, moved and lifted and curled as Jareth's demands made it. He locked his sudden concerns away in a strong mental box and concentrated, listening to every grunt and groan and whispered order in the fae tongue to 'move' and 'more' and 'tight' and 'yes'. He concentrated on the smell of clean sweat and sex and clean sheets, on the silky-hard body and the slight sting of teeth or nails. He concentrated on the sight of his hands clenched in the sheets and the creases on the pillow and the way Jareth's hair was long enough to fall over his shoulder and spread pale strands on the white linen.

If Jareth had been hoping to make his point, Toby decided dismally that he hadn't made it. Because the fae finished first and just as Toby was shuddering, on the brink of orgasm and trying to force that last inch into himself, Jareth slammed harder than ever into him and _ground_ his hand between his legs and really, that was all it could ever take to wash the mortal away.

They lay panting on the bed, both convinced this had had quite the wrong effect.


	55. Mothers

Author's Note: Just interrupting these broadcasts to send a general message of gratitude to everyone who reads. I know this has been a long fiction, so let's hope you've all got the stamina to go the distance.

* * *

"I still cannot believe it," Pandora smiled, eyes shining with excitement, "Oh, I am so happy for the both of you." 

Jervohl's smile widened, even as she sneaked a shy look at her fiancé. "It- it does seem a little unbelievable."

"But what is that old Labyrinth saying- everything is not as it seems?" Gildred laughed quietly, almost to himself, "Certainly true for the Labyrinth."

"My Lord," Jervohl rebuked quietly, "You are both allies now. Making fun of your ally is not a very friendly thing to do."

"My dear, be quiet."

"I see no reason not to speak. We are equals now."

"Equals? Us? You must be delusional," Gildred remarked.

Pandora's eyes almost fell out of her head. The two were actually sniping bitterly at each other, no hint of a smile on either of their faces. She couldn't understand it. Why so soon after their very public betrothal? Not, of course, that they were officially betrothed. That would take some time, yet. And now that she thought of it, such a high-level betrothal needed to be celebrated in a noble way. A ball, perhaps? Yes. A ball. And would not her son groan if he were to hear.

"Speaking of which," she said out loud, "Where are my sons?"

The two broke off from whatever argument they were in the midst of to answer her. "Mother, Dieter died many years ago," Jervohl pointed out, "and Jareth is still somewhat in a temper." Gildred looked confused but his bride didn't notice it.

"A temper?" Pandora echoed, "Why is he in a temper? Never tell me he got angry at the Council again!"

"You could say that." Jervohl shifted uncomfortably until Gildred soothed her with a slow stroke to her hair. She took courage from that simple gesture, though why she needed courage she didn't know. "I take it that the plan to have Gildred propose marriage to me at the Council was Jareth's idea. Confound him as an interfering old hen!"

"Yes, yes, but what _about_ the Council?"

Gildred took over. He kept his words simple and his sentences straightforward- "The Council disapproved of Jareth's obvious interest in a truce with my Kingdom, and of my uncivilized public proposal. The Duke said some harsh things."

Pandora stiffened and stood up, a hand on the table to steady herself, never mind that she still had a needle in the other hand that she waved impatiently at her new son-in-law. "Get on with it," she demanded, "What did he say?"

Gildred looked at Jervohl for guidance. She was staring down at her hands, carefully tracing the shape of her nails with her eyes. No help, then, from that quarter, Gildred surmised. "He called him a waste of intelligence and a profligate… among other things."

"He insulted him." The Lady was almost breathing fire and brimstone by now. She may have said much the same things about her son. She may call him a leech and a spider and a wastrel, but no matter what her views on the matter, dare anyone vocalize such things and she would fight as any mother would for her offspring. Jareth had often laughed at it as hypocritical. She called it a mother's right. And this- in open Council! Pandora could have cut the Duke's throat with the needle in her hand.

"Mother, please sit down. Gildred, help me keep her here."

"Never you mind about me." Pandora sat down regally and picked up her embroidery bracket again. "Where you get such ideas from I will never know. Did you think I would chase after the Duke like a mad thing? I assure you I have a little more control than that."

Jervohl stayed silent as her mother got on with the busy task of embroidering. She hoped with a pang that Gildred would not think her family too strange to adopt as his own. But she needn't have bothered; Gildred wasn't thinking of adopting any part of Jervohl's family. He still saw her brother as a rival. Her mother was sweet, but Gildred really had no need for a mother. All he wanted was Jervohl. And if he had to put up with a dozen family members to have her, he could stand that.

"I am sure the Duke had his reasons for such a lapse of good breeding," Pandora continued, stabbing the needle almost hard enough through the fine mesh to tear it, "I am sure I have called Jareth worse on certain occasions. He can be quite infuriating, you know. What else did he call him, Gildred?"

"A trickster, I believe."

"Oh dear. I seem to have torn my mesh. How tiresome. Never mind, Eloise can help me start again. I really must have this patch done by next week. The Year's End celebrations are close and Lady Harenet has her heart on hosting this year's ball. She wanted this short piece to pin to her dress. I shall have to finish it soon. Gildred, what else did the Duke say?"

"We really cannot remember," Jervohl tried to interject anxiously, just as Gildred said, "Immoral, schemer and corrupt influence."

"Ah, I see. Well, to be sure he can be all of those things. Mercy knows I have told him so often enough. He does insist on sleeping with anything that moves and quite frequently quite a few things that do not. And he is a corrupt influence. Just see how Luka turned out… and Dieter was none the better for having Jareth as his older brother. Dieter died, you know."

Gildred looked puzzled again, but had no chance to ask questions.

"I believe the only one to escape relatively unscathed from Jareth's clutches was Elban. And Jareth has told me that he could not be bothered spending the time and effort needed to open his eyes to the 'real world'. Real world, indeed! My son likes to be a little enigmatic, at times, Gildred, as I am sure you have seen."

Jervohl covered her eyes in despair, not wanting to see the explosion when it happened.

"Toby seems to have occupied his attention for the past year," Pandora remarked, rising to find a sharp blade, "The poor child. Jareth has certainly twisted his sense of identity. It is so sad, but what am I to do? The Goblin King, you know, is not a nice person to associate with."

Gildred nodded gravely and kept his amusement to himself.

Pandora stopped and looked him firmly in the eye, her jaw tightened by fury and determination. "You do know," she emphasized, "That the Duke will not last the next year if I have anything to say about it. He might live out his life as he sees fit, but his title will be stripped from him. And I will see to that personally. I am a dangerous person to cross, Gildred. You might perhaps want to remember that in relation to how your treat my daughter."

Jervohl went red.

Gildred nodded respectfully and accepted the warning as it came. "If I hurt her, I will submit to any fitting punishment you devise," he agreed.

The old lady grinned a small, lopsided smirk that was far too familiar to another, though much too rare for most comparisons. "With such honeyed words, you have already spared your own life," she said archly, "Any more and I might take your side over Jervohl's."

Gildred smiled his glimmer of a smile back at the formidable little female and clasped Jervohl's hand as tightly as he could. "Then it is a good thing I take Jervohl's side in everything," he laughed.

Jervohl had had enough and she squeezed gently on his fingers to warn him. He let go and excused himself, citing the need to speak with his advisers and good friends before he met the Goblin King in the evening. The conditions needed to be reviewed, he explained, and Braan and Dervina needed to be made aware of what was afoot.

Pandora dropped an elegant little curtsey to him and Jervohl kissed him softly on the cheek before he left, still giddy and dizzy about the new turn of events.

"You really will not let the Duke be," Jervohl sighed.

Pandora shook her head in brutal anger. "What I say about my son is allowed to me. No one else has that right."

"And yet Jareth is all of those things."

"And yet he has done a lot of good," Pandora retorted, "I have no idea why he acts the way he does and I despise him for the chances he wastes, but I will say for him that he tries to keep this Kingdom in some kind functioning system. I may not agree with his ideas, but they turn out for the best."

"The Kingdom could be better," Jervohl pointed out.

Pandora shrugged and sat down heavily in her chair. "He gives us all we can expect from him, Jervohl. We really cannot ask for more."

Jervohl sighed heavily and sat down in the nearest seat, absently reaching out to play with the torn embroidery mesh. "I will never understand you. You speak as if you despise him, and then you defend him from anyone that speaks the same."

"Because I have that right. The Duke does not."

"What takes the right from him? He works with Jareth. He puts up with his disturbances and his tantrums and odd behaviour."

"Let me explain something to you- I have never yet abandoned any of my sons to their vices. I will not do it for Jareth or Toby."

Jervohl considered that. "You consider Toby as your son, then?"

"I do."

"He does talk of you as he might of his mother. How long did you raise him?"

"Since he was nine," Pandora said wryly, "Jareth summoned me expressively to hand him over to me. He said he wanted nothing to do with the 'brat'."

The two females looked at each other and shook their heads ruefully. "It does not seem to have changed much," Jervohl commented, "Though I will say that Toby gave the Duke an effective dressing-down this morning. It seemed he did not like the Duke's opinions either. I do not know if Toby even realized, but he swore a protection oath to Jareth."

Pandora sat up straight, blue eyes wide. "No!" she gasped, "He never did!"

"Oh, but he did," Jervohl said smugly, "I think he said that he pledged his allegiance to the Goblin King and said that he would give his life in service for as long as it was needed."

"This is a surprise."

"You hardly seem upset."

"Hmmm?"

"Mother?"

"Oh. What was that, dear?"

"Mother, you have that plotting gleam in your eyes again. What are you thinking?"

Pandora picked at the threads on the table. "I have been thinking," she began, "That perhaps I should make things a little more settled." Jervohl looked blank. "We are a family, the three of us. But Jareth is _here_ and now you will soon leave for Gildred's Fortress. Not that I expect you to stay; of course not! I brought you up with the hope that you lot would one day leave me in peace. But it would be nice to have someone stay with me and I thought… Toby has no home or family."

The other female began to smile.

"I thought I could adopt him. He will certainly take his citizenship- Jareth will see to that- and that will be alright but I thought perhaps it would stabilize his position if he had a family to enter into. Most young boys who are wished into the Underground gain a family, but Toby has never been officially adopted. He goes under Jareth's protection as a ward of the State. But everyone knows of him as Sarah's half-brother. It must be… unstable."

"Are you asking for my opinion or telling me your plans?"

"I thought I might broach the subject with them both when they come here this evening."

Jervohl privately considered it would be asking for trouble to put Jareth and Toby together as brothers. They did alright when they were careful about what they said around the other, but to clump them together like that? But then Toby obviously seemed to have made his peace with Jareth. And Jareth probably would not care much either way. He never did.

"It sounds a good idea," she eventually replied, "When they get here, we will tell him."

Jareth was convinced that he never would get there. They were late. Dreadfully late. And now he was in a hurry and would have no time to prepare a suitable list of terms and conditions for Gildred. Well, he would have about four hours before then, but these things took so long!

"Why not just come back to bed?"

"Toby, we have a prior appointment."

"I am sure the Lady Pandora will forgive us for our tardiness," Toby murmured archly. He stretched as he sat up, scratching his head to get his brains to work again.

"Ha!" Jareth tugged on his trousers and searched around for his hairbrush. It was under a pillow that had landed on the dresser when Toby got annoyed enough with his tickling to threw the pillow at him. "You _think_ mothers are forgiving! I promise you that should you turn up late she will not only not forgive you, but will not let you forget it for the rest of her life. Now get up!" He tossed the pillow back at Toby.

"My shoulder hurts."

"Is it bleeding?"

"No, but the arm is stiff and the wound feels stretched. Does it look damaged?"

Jareth stared at the ceiling for patience. "No. It does not. WILL YOU GET OUT OF BED?"

"But it hurts!"

"Your own fault," Jareth retorted, "Hurry up. My mother will expect to see us soon and you are the one who does not want her to know."

"I see. My fault again." Toby roused himself enough to drag his shirt over his head and tried to button it up properly.

"Naturally. I could care less whether she- where are my boots? Oh, here. What was I saying? Yes. I could care less if she left us alone because we were engaged in several acts of the kind no mother wants to see her son involved in, but _you_ are the one who wants to stay innocent."

"Innocent! After what you put me through? Hah! An impossibility, I do assure you."

"You can assure me by getting clothed," Jareth stressed.

The Goblin King almost fell over trying to tug his boots on and eventually just sank down on the bed for better leverage. He succeeded to some extent, until Toby interrupted him by kissing him. And then Jareth huffed but complied. It was a long, leisurely moment and both took their time over it.

"Toby…"

"Hmmm?"

"Alright, enough. Stop. No, stop." Jareth pushed him away and got on with his boots. The left one finally permitted him to put it on and he sighed as he got to his feet and went to retrieve his jacket. The long, sleeveless thing went on easily- far more easily than the footwear- and Jareth dragged his fingers a few times through his hair one last time with absentminded vanity. "Are you ready yet?"

"I want to wash," Toby complained, "I cannot possibly meet the Lady like this."

"You look fine."

"I smell awful. _I_ can smell the sex on me."

Jareth sighed and checked the clock noiselessly counting the seconds away in the corner. "Toby, I will have to meet you there," he excused, "You know the way." He vanished out the door, intent on whatever new scheme had caught his attention and Toby sighed and fell backwards to the bed again.

His still healing shoulder hurt. And he was sleepy. He didn't want to traipse over half the Castle before pretending to his adopted mother that everything was alright. To which he could almost hear Jareth logically suggest that he not lie at all. The Goblin King was all for being open about it. But Toby didn't want them to know. He didn't know why he didn't want that, but he didn't.

What he did behind closed doors was his private business. In that little room, it was alright. When it just the two of them, they could pretend. But in public it was a very different matter.

Toby was well aware that Jareth would ask to be released from his end of the bargain at least for the coming night. And the mortal didn't mind. Jareth would probably be busy charming some starry-eyed young politician onto his side.

It was all about trust. Jareth somehow inspired a lot of blind trust in a lot of people. Those that didn't trust him, eventually only served to create problems because the Goblin King- for all his talk of the Council- operated with a team of one. Himself, so to speak. He didn't ask for help. He didn't ask for advice. He just ordered information to be delivered and a plan to be executed. But people trusted his mad brained schemes to work simply because they were mad.

So far, no one had been physically hurt by any of them. Maybe a few bruised egos and elbows, a couple of broken bones and broken hearts… but not much, surely? Jareth's reign had been quite peaceful so far. This business with Gildred was as exciting as it got. And the business with Sarah, but only because they feared the Goblin King had gone mad.

Toby hoped no one ever would be hurt by him. It would be a messy scandal indeed.


	56. Options

Author's Note: Don't worry. Merilin isn't forgotten and thereare still a few more hidden truths that need to come out.

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"So you see, Jareth? Will it not be the best way to end this year? You _will_ allow Toby to attend the end-of-year ball, first, yes?"

The Goblin King laughed nonchalantly and shook his head. "Toby goes where he wants, mother. He doesn't need my permission."

"Oh good." The Lady Pandora smiled her sweet smile at him. "That makes things much easier."

"Well, I wish you good luck with it," Jareth commented, getting up and stretching, "If you will excuse me, Noll is my next target for this evening."

The sweet smile faded. "You are not going to plague that poor mermaid again, are you? She barely survived educating you."

"Mother, she has vital gossip. That, and I have the feeling someone is lying to me about the activities of the water animals."

"I see." Pandora was clearly unimpressed.

Jareth didn't bother to explain it. He simply smiled, bowed and stalked away. Pandora shook her head and put his haughty behaviour down to the morning's annoyance. He was always more moody when he called Council, but this went beyond moody into blatant recklessness. Though, of course, there was still that business with Merilin to be sorted out. The elf could not be kept hidden away in a room for the rest of his life.

She needn't have worried. Jareth was making one detour before going to find Noll.

Merilin's room was on the top level of the Castle, bristling with guards. The three outside clanged a salute as soon as the Goblin King appeared in sight. The door was open instantly and the two guards inside were instantly at attention, alerting Merilin as to his guest.

Jareth raised an eyebrow when Merilin got silently to his feet and bowed. "You seem in better spirits since the last time I saw you," he murmured.

The elf looked tired and pale from lack of sufficient exposure to the outdoors. He was sitting by the window, but from the look of him he would need to be taken out in another day or so. The elves never could stand being cooped up in stone prisons. Very few of the races could.

"I apologize for the way I reacted, Your Majesty," Merilin answered, "It was unforgivable of me."

"Was it? I never noticed."

"I also apologize for any trouble I may have caused."

Jareth gazed steadily at him, hands behind his back as he waited for some signs of nervousness or anticipation. Merilin would not use such a crude means of asking for mercy. Those elvish eyes skidded away suddenly to the two guards behind him and he noticed a look of pure derision in them. Derision and hate.

"You may go," he said mildly to the two goblin guards.

The guards took a moment but they left very quickly. Jareth sent all five of them away, wishing ---- would not think quantities were as effective as quality. A good assassin would be able to finish the three outside or the two inside without worrying overmuch. Toby was right- the military could certainly use a little polishing.

Jareth did something for Merilin that he rarely did for anyone. He conjured up a crystal and turned it into a peach.

Merilin took it as a peace offering and smiled gravely in thanks. "I would offer you a seat, Your Majesty, but the hospitality is not mine to extend. But sit if you would like." Merilin waited until Jareth had decisively declined before nodding and sitting down himself.

"I have been thinking," the Goblin King began, "Of what to do with you, in particular. There are two ways to do this. I could simply report you to Council, which frankly is very convenient for me and is also required of me by law. You know that as well as I do. All treasonous and/or publicly panic-inducing tactics are to made general knowledge to the general public. As is their right. If they are to be betrayed by one of their own, they should be told of it."

The elf nodded attentively. He had the sneaking suspicion that Jareth already knew he feared that. The guards were always around and Merilin quite often spent long hours reflecting on this very issue, and who knew but that the guards had reported it to their King.

"Or," came the inevitable second option, "Or we could hammer out a deal between ourselves. I will freely admit that I like this second path much better than all the pageantry with laws and public announcements. You are far too clever to have your career cut short so acrimoniously."

Merilin didn't betray his surprise, but he did sit up straighter, the intent gleam back in his eyes.

"You have been very stupid so far. The first thing you have got to learn, is that you must always be alert. Do not fall asleep when keeping an assignation. It looks bad. The second thing you have to do, is learn to take control of a situation. Never let someone tell you their plans. Ask questions; think around the topic; push for more information than they are willing to give."

"Why are you telling me all this, Your Majesty?"

"Also keeping in mind," Jareth warned, "That you should know when to shut up and obey. Keep your contacts in their right place."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Jareth nodded, hands clasped lightly behind his back and a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. It was all so easy, he exulted, to use power in a powerful way. He never understood why people were so apprehensive about wielding power. It gave one such a kick! "Well?"

Merilin blinked.

"Your choice, Merilin."

"I'm afraid I need more information before I can make that choice, Your Majesty. There is a lot at stake with the public trial, yes, I know. But I am certain you will ask for something hard in return for your silence."

"My silence?" Jareth echoed, raising an eyebrow in innocent enquiry. "Hardly that, Sir Merilin. I only propose to turn this to a better use than your humiliation."

"My punishment, you mean. I will be exiled."

Jareth began to smirk, and then- unable to help himself- began to laugh. He couldn't help it! It was all so very ironic and it amused him to no end to see the way things were turning out. He held up a hand and tried to stifle his sniggers. It was no use antagonizing the elf before he had even laid out his plans.

Merilin stiffened and his eyes flashed. His pride had suffered a severe blow the last time he had met this fae and he was hard-pressed not to flush at being laughed at. He set the peach down and wrapped his robe closer around himself, leaning back in his seat and watching expressionlessly as the King quietened down. He waited until Jareth pulled up a companionable chair before unbending enough to speak- "I will need to know whether my life or the lives of any of those I care for will be in danger if I accept the second choice."

Jareth tilted his head in thought. "Perhaps," he said, brutally truthful, "But not as a direct result of your acceptable of choice two. Whether you get yourself killed or not depends on your inter-personal skills."

The elf stood up. He had his suspicions about this. Jareth wouldn't put his life at risk, but he would put him in a potentially stressful situation that might result in his death. And there were very few avenues that led to that point from Merilin's point of view. He went to the window and breathed in deeply, cleansing his senses with the breathe of fresh air.

"What exactly did Luka tell you about Gildred?" Jareth asked.

"I have already told you…"

"Tell me again."

Merilin automatically felt for the bracelet that usually kept his powerstone around his wrist and grimaced when he remembered it was gone. "Luka is not concerned with Gildred but he says Madigh has insinuated himself into a position of power. Nothing can happen in the Kingdom any more without Madigh knowing. A few more years and Luka is confident that the outlaws can be held ransom to Gildred for a high enough price."

"What price is Luka going to ask for?"

"Power, naturally. Luka wants power. He says he doesn't see why he shouldn't have it."

Jareth nodded slowly to himself. "Then I must ask you once more- will you take the second option?"

Merilin weighed both. The first one, with all its legal safety, was most unappealing. He had a certain reputation, after all. To see his name dragged through the mud would be more than he wanted to have to bear. Which left him with option number two. What gave him pause with that path was the gnawing thought that Jareth had something up his sleeve that Merilin would not like.

And yet.

"Alright," he said heavily, "I accept the second option."

"Good elf," Jareth exulted, rising to his feet with an excited jerk, "Now! We have a lot to discuss, Merilin, so I suggest you prepare your mind to think very, very clearly."

The Lady Pandora was saying something quite similar to Toby. "Think very, very clearly, my dear. I want you to weigh all factors in this."

She was wringing her hands under the table though her face remained pleasantly neutral. The lace cap set just so, the ribbon around her hand discarded with all the expressive hand gestures she'd been affecting in her exuberance. Blue eyes wavering between hope and reservation.

Toby turned it over in his mind again. It was a very tempting offer, it really was. A family was always something he had wanted. And if he had to be adopted by anyone, he was happy to be adopted by the female that had brought him up. He did think of the Lady as his mother, being barely able to remember his own human mother, and he was at home in her palace and with her friends. He was smart enough to know that she was also offering him the kind of stability that most converts his age were never likely to get. As her son, he would always have connections of some kind for as long as he lived, some means by which to keep himself in the event that Jareth barred him from her estate.

Which was where the problem lay. The problem with adopting the Lady Pandora as his mother, was that he would have to adopt her children as his siblings. He didn't regard Jervohl or Jareth in any kind of filial light. He liked Jervohl well enough and he was aware that his respect for her was reciprocated. She would be a minor problem, and one that he could ignore for the most part. It was Jareth that loomed like a dark cloud on his horizon. It felt wrong somehow. He respected the Goblin King enough and he admitted that he did enjoy some of the time they spent together. But their relationship was not particularly pleasant. It bounced between brutal dislike and amiable peace. One wrong word and they were likely to be at each other's throats again.

"I know this is a lot to think about," Pandora offered, "And I will not take it as a personal slight if you refuse. You needn't think that."

"I know, My Lady, but there are other considerations. Other issues to settle."

"I will make provision for you in any case," she said, "I will give Jareth instructions to draw up a will tomorrow detailing it. I never bothered before because the law automatically passes my estate on to my eldest child and since I had thought Jareth was the only one to survive… you see my reticence. Jervohl can still take care of herself, that is true, but even if you do remain human, I will see that you are provided for. Whatever the decision you make."

"Thank you. That means more to me than I can describe. I'm sorry to sound so indecisive, but I was trying to see myself as a brother to both Jervohl and Jareth. It does not seem an easy situation."

"Why not?"

Toby scratched at his chin and wished he had thought to shave. "Jareth and I are not easy companions," he said truthfully, "Being brothers might just ruin whatever peace we do have. After all, all brothers argue."

Pandora laughed and nodded. "You should have seen Dieter and Jareth," she told him, "They fought horribly, even when they were very young. Jareth wanted complete obedience, you see, and Dieter would not give it to him. So he got tricks played on him, he got manipulated into doing silly things that got him in trouble, he got to do all the dangerous things that Jareth couldn't be bothered doing himself. Not that it was all Jareth's fault, of course. Dieter had a competitive streak that just loved a new challenge."

Toby had heard it said that the younger brother got the worst of the deal. Elban had said Dieter had never been a match for Jareth's mind, but somehow helped to sharpen the wits that the Goblin King now used to govern his kingdom. "Did Jareth like his brother, My Lady?"

"Hmmm. A good question. I think he cared for him as much as he is able to care for anyone."

"I never have understood that, My Lady. Clearly he is capable of truly caring for someone?"

"You mean that business with Sarah? That was romantic love, Toby, completely different to family affections. Jareth wouldn't risk everything he had for any of us. He would think of something that kept him safe and served his purpose as well. He always does."

"He cannot always be right."

"Well, he isn't perfect, dear. And his methods of achieving his aims are not always what I like. But when it all seems so justified by the end, can anyone really blame him?"

"Yes."

She raised an eyebrow in that familiar way and looked completely astonished. "Yes?" she echoed, "How do you mean?"

Toby wished he hadn't opened his mouth. But there was only so much that he excuse and in all honesty he didn't see why he had to make excuses for Jareth at all. He was in a bit of a quandary, here. As with Luka, Toby was very aware that Jareth didn't measure up to a few idealistic necessities. Which was fine when they were acquaintances, but as brothers? Toby wouldn't be at peace if he let this happen without saying something. And saying something would mean arguing. But as a brother he couldn't keep his mouth shut either. So he was essentially damned whether he did or didn't.

"It is not right," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, "Jareth cannot be allowed to get away with behaviour that is inexcusable from anyone else. I hardly think it fair."

"That depends on what you consider fair."

"I consider treating people the same as fair. No rule for one that another is exempt from."

Pandora wasn't quite sure why a proposal to legally adopt her unofficially adopted son would turn into a diatribe about her biological son, but she philosophically concluded that if the topic had arisen then it was important. "I agree. But Jareth is in a class to himself."

"Why?"

"Because he never exactly acts a part. In his own way he is very honest. If he says something, it is what he wants to say at the time. If he does something, it usually feels right at the time. Unfortunately his mind keeps changing. It is impossible to predict what his motives are, or why he does what he does."

"One rule for all, My Lady. If Jareth is guilty of something, should it matter what his motives are?"

She looked at him steadily and then gave him the benefit of long years of experience- "Motives are everything. One can be guilty of a crime, but whether one is executed or merely punished is determined by how devious was one's intention to commit the crime. For an innocent person accidentally guilty of the misuse of power conducted in the heat of emotion, the Bog is suitable, or a number of months in an oubliette But a cruel, evil, vicious scandalous person will be sent by law into the Labyrinth to endure whatever the Labyrinth can device. And the Labyrinth can be just as cruel."

Toby shook his head and thought that this family was far too complex for a straight-forward discussion on equality. Besides which, he wasn't necessarily saying that the Goblin King was guilty of any great crime, but more that he didn't see why people didn't dare judge his actions. Tall tales and legends whispered behind the fae's back were surely worse than asking a few searching questions.

"You do not have to give me your answer now," Pandora resumed, "I expected that you would need time to think. I should mention, however, that both Jervohl and Jareth will be very happy to welcome you into our family."

He had upset her, he realized. Pandora had thought he would be pleased. And he was, he really was. But there were things he needed to think about, issues that needed to be weighed, consequences that needed to be properly examined… "It would make me very happy to be a part of your family, My Lady," he said formally.

She blinked and then looked at him as if she couldn't have heard right.

"I said yes," he chuckled, pulling up a seat next to her. If he winced when he sat, she didn't notice.

And besides, the whole thing made her happy and what the hell! He really was still too lethargic to think in any clear and reasonable fashion. And how bad could it be to have a brother and sister? It wouldn't make much difference to the way they already treated each other.


	57. Letters

Author's Note: Taron is a card game. Similar to poker but played with three decks and a system of penalties as well as the usual rules.

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"Alright, sit down. This Council is reconvened. Keep up, Gonzo; I won't be repeating myself. And you, Sir, if you could keep your seat for one minute more? Good. Now! What is the next order of business?"

Jareth was, once again, tired. He felt as though he had spent most of the past year not getting enough sleep. The rest of the time he felt as though he had been arguing. If there was one thing he did not want to spend the rest of the day doing, it was arguing and feeling tired. But this had been planned. The Council members would not stand for being sent away unsatisfied again.

Noll looked perfectly fresh, damn her green skin! Jareth found it insufferable that merfolk could do with the minimum number of hours of sleep. And Buttress didn't seem to have a sore head from all that drinking, either. Well, at least the Goblin King was sure of the merpeople. The elves would follow Merilin so he estimated that beginning _that_ announcement would be best for everyone. And the centaurs… well, he hadn't had the time for the centaurs, but the mountain sprites would stand on their heads and count backwards for him now that he had won back their quarry.

"Right. Leave aside the petty business of waste," he dismissed, "Have the garbage collectors do a landfill or something. Surely there is a pond or lake or puddle of some kind that no water race is using? Sort it out amongst yourself. Cruin, stand up."

The elf looked startled, but rose obediently to his feet.

"As the Head of the Diplomatic and Political Committee of the Elves, I must needs ask why you have yet not mentioned that one of your senior members is missing?" Jareth watched his reaction carefully.

The elf obviously did not like being questioned in front of the entire assembly. But he swallowed any protests he might have made and spoke clearly, "We did not think it worth your attention, Your Majesty. As Mr. Williams pointed out yesterday, you have many duties. And Mr. Williams' education as well."

Jareth did not like that snide comment. He also didn't like the glint of independent thought in Cruin's eyes. He made a mental note to do something about it. "As you say," he agreed mildly, "I was only curious."

Cruin nodded and sat down.

"Send for Sir Merilin," Jareth called nonchalantly.

The elves almost fell out of their chairs. The other races just watched the door and relished the drama. They loved Council meetings when the Goblin King didn't turn his attention to them. Jareth was always good for providing bits of interesting news.

Sir Merilin came very readily. He looked far better than he had done the day before, having been allowed out into the garden all morning. He had been given a change of clothing, the chance to bathe and dress properly in the privacy of his own room, and a healthy meal. He also entered with the certain knowledge that he was about to be given a very important job. A very deadly job, but most people wouldn't know that. His sense of self-assurance was well on its way to being mended.

"Sir Merilin, please take a seat." Jareth snapped his fingers to get the guard's attention and instantly a chair was brought and set at the table, along with a silver goblet.

The goblet drew everyone's attention.

"Sir Merilin came in secret to the Castle at my insistence." It wasn't a lie, only a half-truth. "I had a proposition for him and he has very gracefully accepted. Sir Merilin, I ask you once again, in the eyes of all these people, if you will consent to representing the Underground in the Kingdom of the Outlands."

"The Outlands?"

"Lord Gildred of the Sky," Jareth pointed out, "He does not want his people to forget their roots, so they will remain as Outlaws, Exiles. Yet, not officially so, if you understand. Therefore, the Outlands. Merilin?"

The elf picked up the goblet and lifted it silently to Jareth's waiting gaze. Then he drained it. There was no outbreak of cheering, no shouting and gaiety in the hall. The elves allowed self-satisfaction and pride to curl their lips while the other races looked nonplussed and scratched their heads to know why an elf had been selected from all the other races.

Such an act of acceptance was an old tradition and one that dated back many generations. It had been Jareth's idea to use it; Merilin would have preferred something a little less pompous. After all, Merilin didn't quite hold to the tradition. As he put it, "How exactly is a drink of wine supposed to symbolize acceptance?"

Jareth's answer had been, "Accepting the drink means accepting the conditions of the drink. Usually because people were starved of food and water until they eventually capitulated to the demands of whatever power-hungry lord happened to be bribing them with a cup of diluted wine to quench the burning thirst."

Put like that, Merilin didn't so much mind drinking down the cup of wine. In any case, it was ceremonial and there was not enough to cloud his senses. He put down the goblet, which was instantly whisked away by an anxious servant already muttering under his breath about priceless silver being ruined, and gratefully took a seat. A hand on his arm was all the congratulations that Cruin afforded him in public.

"Sir Merilin will leave with Lord Gildred," Jareth said blandly, "And he will begin the enormous task of integrating with the new Outland King's Court. He will make arrangements of trade and apprise us of the best items with which to start such a system. And then he will liaison with the relevant agents to arrange infrastructure and criminal exchange programs."

It was a large job. Merilin's _real_ job, naturally, was to provide Jareth with any and all information that he could pick up. Particularly concerning Madigh and Luka. Jareth wanted to know where the fae was, and why Madigh had trusted in his scheming. Jareth also wanted to know what Merilin's new plan would be.

"So noted, Your Majesty," Gonzo said quietly.

Jareth nodded down at the dwarf and then looked back up sternly. Noll had had immense news for him the evening before. Over a game of taron, he had heard something that made him unable to stop thinking for the rest of the night. "Now. What was being said about blackmail?"

The assembly looked sheepish, but a young female centaur hesitantly signalled her willingness to speak. The Goblin King waved his hand in approval.

"Your Majesty, as I am one of the primary victims of this scandal, I would like to be the first to give my story."

Jareth sat up straight and leaned forward, eyeing this decent looking young female as if he had never seen her before. She was a newcomer, as far as his reign went, and was usually silent. He could swear he had never heard such a musical voice before. "A story is usually fiction," he commented, "Tell me the facts."

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I received a letter, Your Majesty," she began, "A letter that detailed certain things about my mother's family that were private. Certain, ah, discrepancies? Things that could be misconstrued, at any rate. And this letter claims that in three months more letters will arrive at the living quarters of every influential person in my herd, telling them of this information. In six months, it will be sent to the rest of the Underground."

Jareth tightened his lips. "I see. I assume you could not just tell us what this information is? It will protect you from future embarrassment."

"The information is not against myself, Your Majesty, but my mother's family. I am loathe to do so unless in an emergency."

Jareth nodded. "How many others in this room have received a letter?" he asked. Eight more hands went up. Almost one in each race. All unknowns too, but all with the look of honest, conscientious people. The kind of people that inspired the rest of the country to trust the manipulative bastards that governed it. Very important people as far as safety and peace went. Jareth picked one at random.

The earth sprite lifted up a roll of parchment in his brown fingers and said clearly, "This is the one that I received, Your Majesty. I was not myself even aware of this information until the letter arrived. I cannot corroborate it as yet and I refuse to believe it."

Jareth took a look and understood why. The earth sprite's sister stood accused of poisoning her attendant, knowingly. Jareth rolled it up tightly and walked down to Gonzo's table. Silently, he sealed the parchment shut and held it up. "I will investigate," he warned, "this will not be forgotten. Tell your sister that it will be in her best interests to confess, should this be true. As it stands, no one else will read what lies in this letter, and no one else will be informed."

Gonzo nodded and said, "So noted," once again, formally ending the discussion.

But Jareth's eyes turned to the fae lady sitting so quiet, trusting by instinct that something was not right with her. From the look on Crase's face, the other male fae had the same instinct. Jareth trusted his instincts; he also knew that Jervohl's previous fiancé was a very good judge of character. But he turned away and didn't make much of it.

"If there is anyone with any information as to this business, let me know. A note delivered to my study can arrange a meeting or give me the information. It may be anonymous. Or, the bold amongst you can come to the study directly and tell me whatever it is you know. I shall expect someone by the day's end."

He went back to his stone seat and sat down. "Back to business. The End of Year draws nearer. We must plan public festivities. I plan to increase the budget for all the races by ten percent. I think we can do with a good day out."

The Council proceeded much as he had expected. People argued. People abused each other. But people got work done. So long as he kept them driving relentlessly in the right direction, and let them have a few minutes to hurl insults at each other's ancestors once in a while, they were very productive. But Jareth was glad that Toby had not been there. The mortal was beginning to ask questions about Merilin and the mysterious meeting between that elf and the outlaw Toby believed to be Madigh.

The Goblin King sat down in his study and for the fourth time in as many days wondered why he still kept a photograph of Sarah on his desk. He was passed this. One dream in a matter of a month was progress. He told himself he wouldn't throw it out, but moving it to another table would certainly be wiser.

In the midst of solving that knotty problem, there was a knock upon the door. Gonzo stood there, hopping from foot to foot and red-faced. He held out a letter and dropped a bow at the same time. Jareth took the letter.

"Who sent it?" he asked.

"It was left on my table," the dwarf said.

Jareth nodded and ripped it open. He read the first line." Call out the guards," he said slowly, his eyes scanning faster down the page, "Call them out! Now! Move!"

The Goblin King swept into Jervohl's room and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her forcibly away and into the Lady Pandora's suite. He sent a goblin for both Toby and Gildred.

"Have the Castle surrounded," he ordered his men, "I want guards outside the Lady's suite. Gather all the Council members in the Reception Hall and keep them there! Give them weapons if any of them can fight. Go! Go! Don't stand there like morons!"

The guards raced around. The servants were all sent down to the kitchens, which was really the safest place in the entire Castle. There were underground passages that led into the Labyrinth's oubliette system. The Labyrinth recognized its own. The goblins would be safe there.

Gildred met Jareth as the Goblin King ran up to get back to the most important person in the Castle. The redheaded outlaw was on his way down. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"You are about to invade us and kill my sister," Jareth said grimly, "And you are about to die as well. Have your weapons brought to you, My Lord. I have no guards to spare for a personal escort. Toby!" He slammed the door open so fast it rebounded back into Gildred's face. He counted people and went stiff. "Where is Toby?" came the quiet question.

"N- no one sees him, Your Majesty," a guard shivered. The guards could stand an invasion, but a furious Goblin King was unpredictable and death was not always a blessing he doled out.

Even Pandora didn't waste time asking questions when Jareth raised his hand to his eyes, fighting to keep his temper in check. "Where was he last seen?"

"I-I-I d-d-d-don't k-know," the goblin stammered, shaking so hard his armour rattled.

"Right." The hand didn't lower just yet. Jareth was in a dilemma. He couldn't prove his powers but with Luka roaming the Underground, Toby was either in great danger or would be a part of it. Either way, he preferred to get the mortal safely where he could keep an eye on him. So he swept out mentally, scanning the countryside.

The Labyrinth was silent, which still puzzled him and actually proved quite terrifying. The ancient structure has always been the best protection the Underground had had. There were no groups converging on the Castle that he could tell. He could 'see' no one. But he could see Toby, and the mortal was already making his way back. And there was something wrong.

"He is outside," he snapped, dropping his hand and stalking to the door, "Take his sword and send two soldiers out to him. Now. Bring him to me. Nowhere else- to _me_! Do you understand?"

The goblin nodded and make quick work of his escape. Jareth stared moodily at the door in the silence, still flying out above the lands, keeping watch. Gildred shushed Jervohl when the latter tried to ask a question. Gildred would know; his medallion operated in the same way. He kept absolute quiet in the room.

Pandora surprisingly didn't ask questions. From logical deduction, Jareth wouldn't call out the guards unless it was important. And he wouldn't look so furious if it was not dire. She touched Eloise on the shoulder and the goblin lady carefully made her way to the door to the bedroom. It was lucky for her that Jareth's attention was focused beyond the Labyrinth, where people were beginning to detach themselves from the crowd of living organisms and advance. He could see them now. Assassins the lot of them; not even Gildred's common guard but true assassins of the type that all feared.

He lifted his head and looked at Gildred. The other already knew because his eyes were flashing fire and his lips had tightened. "Yours," Jareth said shortly, "Bodyguards."

Gildred nodded once and made for the door. "Your guards can do what they do best," he snapped tightly, "Leave my assassins to me. I shall have their eyes strung on a chain before the day is out." Opening the door he disappeared for exactly a count of three before reappearing, looking most annoyed. "Where in hell is my general? Are you dreaming, Jervohl, or have your senses deserted you?"

The female was moving before the words were over, moving even as she thought to look to Jareth. Because she wasn't Gildred's general any more. Or at least, she had resigned that position and her brother might have a lot to say about her return to it. But Jareth nodded at her and followed on their tail, already caught by something else.

"Mother, stay here. I shall have guards put at your door. They will not touch you." He held her gaze for a long moment, hoping she did not see shades of his father's death in this, and then left quickly. Toby was out there and so were assassins. Sarah would kill him if her baby brother were hurt! What was he saying? _He_ would kill Luka is the man was hurt.

He grabbed at the sword his bodyguard handed him and irritably pushed the goblin out of his way. He had always hated armour and he hadn't taken the time to be fitted for it. He buckled it on and made for the door.

Gildred held a quick, silent meeting in the corridor outside the Lady's room. Braan was put on the corridor, hidden up on the niche where a large stone jar had been set. Dervina went down to the entrance doors. Her skills combined with the guards would be more than enough to hold back most of any kind of flood. The other two were posted at various strategic points in the Castle. Jervohl and Gildred were going to work in plain sight. The hoods were pulled down over their faces. They dispersed silently and without fuss.

Pandora waited, ears straining to catch the least sound from her bedroom. When Eloise came back, she rose and went to the guard at the door. "I will be in my bedroom," she said firmly, "I have a dagger in there and I shall be able to stay out of your way."

The guard nodded nervously and let her go. The door was pushed closed until it almost shut.

Jareth didn't break into a run. He waited, in full view, at the Castle's entrance. He had forbidden the guards from being with him and had instead left them inside, waiting to swing the doors open and shut as quickly as possible.

Toby found him very soon, standing there, in black from head to foot with the sunlight glinting on his light blond hair. The dark sheath at his side was all the protection that the Goblin King had to hand and Toby wanted to shout at him for doing something so stupid! Until he realized that Jareth had the medallion around him neck, with more defences than anyone else in the Kingdom could hope for.

He was almost up the stairs. Jareth had caught sight of him, but had just resumed that inward look again, frowning and straightening in alarm. A familiar sight broke through the City just to the mortal's left. Toby almost broke stride as Hoggle came running out, breathless and almost falling over he was so agitated.

"Y- Your Maj… ass- ass-a-a- assass…"

"Yes, yes, I know. What are you doing here?"

Hoggle's legs gave out and he sat down on the stone step at Jareth's feet, nursing an agonizing stitch in his side. "The Safe-S-S- Safety Path!"

"Get him in," Jareth ordered, "Hurry! They're almost upon us."

Toby grabbed Hoggle by the arm, muttered an apology in advance and dragged him in as the doors opened. He barely avoided getting Hoggle's toes caught in the subsequent slam shut. "Sorry," he said again, panting himself, "Jareth, what's going on? The guards are still out there."

"No, Sire." Juko saluted smartly as he presented himself to his King. "Got them in the back way."

"I told them to bring him to me," Jareth said slowly.

Toby shook his head. "Gave them the slip, Jareth. I went after something I heard."

The Goblin King's head came up sharply, staring straight into those blue eyes that were shadowed so harshly. There was a reason Toby sounded like that. Something had happened. Something, as he had sensed before, was wrong. "Tell me," he said tersely.

"There is nothing to tell you."

"Toby, do not lie to me now."

"There is nothing to tell you."

Jareth controlled himself. The guards were taking steps back, hoping not to draw his eye. Because if he decided to take his anger out on one of them… They might not exist as they had before.

"Upstairs," Jareth said shortly, "I have no time to waste on you."

Toby looked even more troubled, but he said nothing. He wouldn't look Jareth in the eye, even as the Goblin King turned to shout something out to the guards. It was only on the stairs that he spoke- "I killed him."

The Goblin King didn't stop. "Whom?"

"The assassin. There were two. I heard them talk. I killed one."

Jareth nodded and offered a tight smile over his shoulder. "Was that what you could not tell me? Stupid brat. As if I would judge you. As if you should care if I did."

"I do care. For no real reason. But it was not the one I killed that has me worried. It was the one I let go."

"I am sure you fought as well as you could. These are trained killers, Toby. You are good, but they are better. I would not expect you to stop them both. No one would."

Toby said nothing more. He was in despair. His head was in a whirl and things had been said. Things that made him feel as if his world was not completely spinning out of control. And the Goblin King was not much help. Not that he expected it; Jareth had enough to worry about without thinking of him as well. But Toby somehow suspected that Jareth would have dropped everything if he were Sarah. Toby didn't want to be Sarah, but the principle was that he was worried and ashamed and trying to speak of it even when all he wanted to do was keep his head down and say nothing, praying it would all go away.

"He was trying to warn you, Your Majesty. About me."

The charmer at the top of the staircase was leaning casually against the balustrade, arms crossed and bitter smile on his face. Brown eyes glittered down into wide mismatched ones. Jareth was astonished and Luka took full note of it; it was a rare occurrence.

The Goblin King drew his sword instantly, and Luka drew his. Jareth moved, putting his back to the balustrade where he could keep an idea on both Toby and Luka. He cursed himself for being so caught up in the business of the Council that he had not checked on his Kingdom before. And he cursed himself for being in this position between two traitors.

But Toby didn't draw his sword. He kept his hands loosely to his sides, even as he kept his face upturned. He didn't look at Luka. He looked to Jareth, mutely waiting for some reaction, some derision, something. Jareth obviously knew, now, didn't he? Couldn't he? He was the Goblin King. He always knew.

But Jareth looked at him with no sign of understanding on his face. Indeed, he looked angry, betrayed and spiteful. "I feared this," he murmured, "I hoped you would not, but you have."

"Oh, stop the theatrics, my dear," Luka snapped, "He has done nothing very much. You should thank him. He tried to save your sorry hide."

Jareth didn't comment. He didn't need to. Gildred was already moving and since the Outlands King was on a lower level, it was Toby he first came to. Toby was forced to draw his sword when Gildred almost beheaded him. Jareth lowered his own blade and watched, cold and silent. He had no real opinion on the matter. If Toby were to be killed, Jareth would not particularly mourn. Not now. Goblin King did not like backstabbers.

Jervohl came by the clash of swords to the scene, startled when she saw who it was that her fiancé fought. Toby had only his advantage of higher ground and strength. And yet his considerable length made it harder for his defences to accurately protect him. Jervohl didn't wait for explanations. Especially when another sword threatened to skewer her. Luka was better than she gave him credit for.

Jareth watched both pairs and put his own weapon away. He folded his arms and waited. In both cases, one of them would emerge victorious. If it was Gildred and Jervohl- and he had every reason to believe it would be- then he would not be unhappy. If either Luka or Toby managed to win… Jareth was most dangerous when he used his magic. And he was planning to use his magic on them. He did not plan to let them live.

"You see, Toby? Where is his justice now? He has abandoned you to death, whichever way it comes to you," Luka shouted.

"Shut _up_!"

Jareth raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. Especially when Toby spun from his opponent in a panic-stricken temper and hurled his sword down the stairwell. The mortal was shouting, dropping to his knees and offering his neck so willingly that Gildred's fateful blade halted. Words slipping from Fae to English to Goblin. Shouting so loud that Jareth's cold distance snapped in half.

Striding to the mortal and grabbing his chin, forcing him to look up. "Stop it," Jareth warned, "Repeat yourself in saner fashion."

"Sane?" Toby's voice now dropped to a whisper. "You have no idea what sane is. You, who can twist words to make them living things in themselves! You lie and cheat and change from moment to moment. Give me one good reason why I should ever trust you."

Jervohl deftly used the distraction to viciously slash fingers hard enough to make Luka drop his sword.

Toby didn't look up even at the loud curse. "Why should I take your word over his. He speaks the truth. You use people. You admit it to me. You hold power over them and scheme and plot to have your way with them. Why should I trust you when I cannot trust my…" he faltered.

"Boyfriend?" Jareth completed dryly. He waited, watching blue eyes grow ice and turn to storm. Watching the play of emotions over the plain, honest face. "Stupid brat," he said feelingly. Grabbing a hold of the man's shirt and forcing him to rise. "Stop kneeling. You look ridiculous down there. Can you stand? Here. Give me your arm."

"Arrest me. I let an assassin live. He almost killed you and those you love. He plotted your downfall. The law states…"

"Does he always quote the law at you?" Gildred asked in interest.

Jareth shook his head in rueful resignation. "Only when he is overwrought," he excused.

Luka smirked to himself at the exchange. Toby had forgotten his very existence. Luka had thought he had seen the same affection in those eyes that had been there last. But the man was pressing close to the Goblin King's side, a hand on his shoulder and his breathing easier now that Jareth had stopped accusing him.

Luka had one last chance. Now. When Jervohl's face was turn. He twisted away, his sleeve catching on the sharp tip but his light feet danced him out of range with graceful quickness and he was away, fleet as the wind down the corridor. Jervohl gave chase. Gildred went after her.

Jareth summoned a crystal. "Watch," he said.

Toby looked down and his hand tightened on the slender shoulder. "May I ask for one thing?" he ventured. Jareth didn't give the least hint of having heard him. "Do not hurt him. Please."

"I will do the needful. Now watch."

It was the best Toby could hope for. Luka wouldn't make it. Braan intercepted him and from the sounds of things, the assassins below were ably taken care of by the guards. A disturbing view on efficiency, Toby thought sluggishly, it took a legion of guards to take down the same number of assassins that three outlaws had handled. He slumped and Jareth pushed him to lean against the wall.

The sudden scream of pain echoed enough to bring both men to startled attention. The Lady? They both took off; fear giving Toby the energy to forget his drained emotions. They got to the room just as Braan did. The guards outside of it were prone on the floor. One was dead, another was moaning in pain and the third was injured and unconscious. The door stood open and another guard lay dead just inside.

But more than the guard was a sight Jareth had never thought to see in his life. A dark, sallow, strangely unappealing fae was lying on the floor, hand still clutching the bloodied scimitar. The crossbow bolt in his back looked painful and the blood was horrific. From the black cloak he wore to the vague descriptions Jareth had received, the Goblin King could only reach one conclusion- "Madigh, I suppose?"

"Dead," Gildred said simply.

"Yes, he certainly is. Toby, take that crossbow out of my mother's hand. My Lady, just what exactly do you think you are doing?"

"Assassins are not the only ones who shoot to kill," Pandora said brutally. She relinquished the crossbow readily enough. "Eloise, you may come out now."


	58. Trap

Author's Note: Sorry I've been away so long. I got so busy that I didn't have the time to write the chapters (I don't pre-write an entire fiction before posting). That, and I'm trying to write chapters for about six other stories as well. Hopefully, there should be quite a few chapters up under my penname by the end of the week. Hope you guys enjoy this one.

Author's Note2: Re-posted due to minor errors in grammar and spelling.

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"What are you going to do to him?" Toby asked.

Jareth looked up from where he was gazing at the body on the floor and shrugged. "Burn him," he said, "Unless Gildred has other plans."

The mortal sighed and shook his head. "Not Madigh," he protested, "Luke. What are you going to do to Luke?"

Luke. Jareth took that as a very bad sign. Toby was back to calling his former lover by that ridiculous human name. It implied romance, it implied sympathy, it implied a closeness that might- conceivably- extend beyond just the bedroom. And yet the Goblin King knew for a fact that Toby had had no idea about this. It still puzzled him as to why Madigh would attempt something so obviously doomed to failure. As it stood, Jareth did not want to waste thinking time of Toby.

"Jareth, please. I know this looks bad for him but you have to understand that he does stupid things sometimes. I know he has to be punished, but not with death. Exile him if you must, but at least let him live."

"Exile him? Where exactly am I to exile him to?" the fae demanded, "Gildred is as likely to want his head as I am. Exiling him is out of the question."

"Does it even matter where he goes? Let Luka find his own place to stay. It will be punishment enough to ruin his life so completely."

Jareth raised an eyebrow. Toby was certainly learning manipulation. It was a good try, but Jareth was so used to pulling these tricks himself that he saw right through the smokescreen of words. "Hardly. Ten people are dead. My hall is in shambles. My potential peace with Gildred is on very shaky ground. And you think that a life of wandering will be enough of a punishment? For the planning of this fiasco Luka should die under law, let alone having carried it out."

The Goblin King stopped as he heard the steady tramp of feet, restraining himself from saying anything more. The conversation could wait. He had a few people in custody that he wanted a chance to interview. Gildred would have got to his assassins first, though, so Jareth had no real expectation of seeing any of them lucid or even alive by the end of the day. Which left him with Luka. Luka was the only one Jareth had reserved for himself. Mostly because it rankled him that this attack had almost slipped under his awareness.

The goblins entered, grim-faced and carrying a stretcher between them. Without a word, they hefted up the body of Gildred's lieutenant and carried it back out again.

Toby wondered if the blood would come out of the carpet. The stuff on the floor had already congealed, but stone washed easily. The carpet was another matter and the threads were stiff with blood. "I am not saying that he should not be punished. But try not to hurt him deliberately."

This was certainly a change. At the start of all this Toby Williams had refused to forgive the stealing of a few fairly valuable baubles. Just some jewellery here or there; just a gold ornament or two. Now? Jareth was watching him willingly forget that people had died because of that fae. It was too much of a change. Jareth didn't like this change.

"I know what he did was so very wrong." Toby didn't see those tightened lines softening an inch. It anything, Jareth looked even more implacably decisive than he had previously. No encouraging sign of hope in that sharp-featured face. "I have not forgotten what this mess costs you. But killing him is a little extreme."

Jareth said nothing. He simply turned away with no intention of allowing such an affecting performance to sway him. "Go to your room and lie down. You sound hysterical," came the mocking answer.

Toby gave up. He had not expected to change Jareth's mind, and it was clear from the stiff set of those broad shoulders that Jareth already had plans in his head. He walked with purpose. He wasn't listening to anyone else. His eyes didn't even see anyone else. And this time the axe would fall- Jareth was fully capable of putting someone through hell for this mix up.

The Goblin King wasn't of quite the same opinion. He was angry, yes, and ruthlessly determined to sacrifice whoever he needed to in order to make things right again, but he wasn't looking for a scapegoat. There were certain points that made no sense to him, that were hard to fit in properly with the general set of the puzzle. So he went to his one bargaining chip.

Luka was in a holding cell at the top of the Castle. These were different from Merilin's prison, being bare, sparse and completely designed to depress any person thrown in. Like oubliettes, the general purpose of a holding cell was to let someone stew in their own insecurities and doubts for as long as the King liked. In a few reigns, skeletons were discovered in the holding cells.

Luka was brought to an interrogation room and respectfully offered a chair at the table. A lot of the goblins remembered him. A lot of the guards keeping the cells had known Luka's father, King Hayle. It was all quite cosy until the Goblin King strode in, all black leather jacket and glittering eyes.

"Stand," he said simply.

Luka stood.

Jareth jerked his head at the fae and the guard instantly patted him down, looking for any concealed weapon. It was just a trick annoyance; Jareth didn't believe Luka had any weapons left that he would not have used to escape. Luka _was_ annoyed. And a little offended. But that was okay. The more defensive he was, the better Jareth's prodding would work. Any little goblin child could have candidly told anyone who cared to listen that consistent prodding with a finger on a soft part of the body- usually the arm or the nose- would have the desired result of making the prodded person scream in a fury and capitulate in frustration. Jareth had always thought children were the cleverest torturers, even the goblin children.

So he prodded. "Sit down. Drink? No? I would have thought all the excitement would make you thirsty. Well, _I_ would like a drink. Excuse me."

He left again.

Luka fumed in the room for exactly two minutes after which Jareth wandered back in again, looking thoroughly preoccupied with something else entirely. "Right," he said sitting down, "What was I going to say?"

Luka raised an eyebrow but bit his tongue to stay silent.

"My lamentable memory," Jareth mourned, tapping his head, "It just slips away. I could swear it was on the tip of my tongue to ask you something… oh yes! Oh, no. I left the letter in my study. Excuse me."

Now the Goblin King, to all intents and purposes, is perfectly within his rights to summon a servant or guard and have the entire Castle roused to the simple act of getting him a piece of paper from his study four floors down. Or, if he was the kind of person who did things himself, he could apparate from the room and be back in two blinks of Luka's brown eyes. Jareth being Jareth and a breed unto himself, he got up from the table and walked out the door once again. It would take him ten minutes at a good pace.

Luka's nerves tightened another notch and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Never mind the letter," Jareth growled, slamming back into the room, "Tell me why you involved Merilin in your plans."

Luka was taken off guard. Blinking as he looked up into that urgent face, he said plainly, "He was an easily manipulated person who could create trouble."

"Good! Now we seem to be getting somewhere." Jareth gave a Cheshire cat grin and took a casual stance just a distance away.

Luka flushed as he realized he had been tricked and obstinately blanked everything from his mind. It wouldn't do, he told himself, if he were to be cooperative. The Goblin King asked his questions, Luka twisted them around to smoke and mirrors, and the words went back and forth. Jareth had the advantage of cutting through the rubbish to the core, but Luka was far more subtle. The Goblin King affected complete personality changes. Luka just slyly tweaked his way of thinking.

How things might have ended was anyone's guess. Unfortunately, as with all situations in life, they did not have the time to match wits at their leisure. Gildred had finished with his assassins and he walked in, grey eyes so furious Jareth instantly readied himself for the disagreeable task of protecting someone he wouldn't mind seeing dead.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, hands clasped behind his back, chin still lifted in haughty nonchalance.

"One of my assassins confessed."

Luka laughed quietly to himself but was polite enough to smother it with the back of his hand.

Jareth ignored it. "How many are left?"

Gildred counted mentally before reciting the list- "Fifty came in total. More than sufficient to obliterate you and most other important people in the Castle. Dervina marshalled your guards and they took thirty. Twenty-three of those were killed outright, six were injured and one surrendered. Braan and four other of my retinue handled the higher assassins. They are all dead. The Lady Pandora killed Madigh and this… disease sitting before us is the only other one left."

"We were attacked by fifty plus two, we killed forty-three plus one and we have seven in the cells. How many have you spoken to?"

Luka laughed harder, this time rudely lowering his hand. Gildred hit him in the face as a matter of course, got him out of the chair and kicked him. Luka coughed and lay still on the floor. He wasn't laughing any more but the blank look of noncooperation was just as effective at giving his point of view.

Jareth waited until it was over and then silently tapped the Outlands King on his shoulder. He shook his head expressively and got down on one knee beside their captive. "What," he questioned mildly, "Was so very amusing."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but your sudden habit of asking questions. Not quite fitting with the image I always saw."

"_That_ was funny?"

Luka didn't answer directly. "I can answer your questions for you. His Majesty King Gildred would have interviewed his most junior assassin first. He would have walked in and assaulted the assassin before saying a thing. And then he would have demanded the whole story. The minute he received it, he would have gone to the cell holding the only one to surrender and he would have killed him or her in a fit of violent disgust for that surrender alone."

Jareth was impressed. Luka certainly had an accurate reading on Gildred. Of course, it was understandable. Jareth put himself in Gildred's place and the burning shame of his infamous warrior surrendering was understandably worse than just a rogue soldier. Gildred would exact terrible revenge either way, but he had no respect for those he saw as cowards.

Which presented a large problem. Luka was capable of being a coward. Gildred would not wait to ask permission before snapping his neck.

"My Lord, if you could give me a time alone with my subject?"

"He is no longer in your power, Jareth. He had removed himself to outlaw status. Therefore," Gildred landed another kick, "Therefore he is mine."

"I have not exiled him yet," Jareth warned, "And he has no say in that matter. Besides which, he knows what to say to make you give him the reaction he wants. He will not find it as easy with me."

Luka giggled, though it was brief and painful.

"He knows you too, surely. You were getting nowhere with him a few minutes ago."

Jareth gave no answer but his unpleasant smile was telling. With no effort at all, he gave in to whatever persona it was that Luka expected from him. "You may have your turn after me," he purred. Long fingers caressed one smooth cheek before angry nails scoured four crimson lines in the flesh.

Gildred effectively stopped in surprise. The Goblin King had never struck him as the type to enjoy violence. Ruthless, yes; sadistic, no. Ye he knew a faux pas when he saw one and intruding on the Goblin King's territory was a very big one. He left.

For the briefest moment, wariness replaced the indifferent determination.

Jareth got off the floor and wandered to the nearest wall. He watched those eyes watch soft-hard fingers trailing on silken-skinned stone, circling the room in challenge. Those eyes never left him as far as was possible. That in itself cued him further. "To think you did all that," he mocked, "Only to get caught in the end? Careless, Luka, very careless. Or was this Madigh's idea?"

Luka didn't react. Instead he ignored it with relative ease, getting up and picking up his chair. He sat back on it with a sigh.

"My mother killed him," Jareth switched, "Did they tell you? It seems she learned to shoot from my father. A family trait, it would seem. All three of her children had varying degrees of success with swords but our aim was spectacular. I wonder if I still have remarkable accuracy."

Luka went stiff. The threat was too gleeful, too openly stated. He would have been a fool not to see it. His nerves jumped when stone cooled fingers circled the nape of his neck.

"I might aim for the neck. It would stifle any scream." The fingers went down to the chest. "Or the heart." To the stomach. "Or here." Lower still with a mockery of gentleness. "Or here. You could bleed to death from here."

Luka snorted and refused to react. But he had already given himself away.

"Not there?" Jareth breathed, "I agree it would be a shame. Toby would miss that sweet appendage quite a lot."

Luka grit his teeth and then forced his jaw to relax. He could wait out the teasing and the mocking. He just had to concentrate.

The fingers left as suddenly as they had arrived. Jareth took a seat across the table, pulling on his gloves without a smile as he shifted effortlessly into the next personality. "Explain all this," he demanded, "Why spend an afternoon with Toby before attacking the Castle?"

Luka didn't like that question. "Would you rather not know why I attacked at all?"

"Of course not! I know about your planning and I know perfectly well that you knew it too. You set Merilin up splendidly for the amusement it afforded you, and for revenge when he betrayed you. You also knew for a fact that Madigh would get nowhere near Jervohl."

"You seem to know a lot."

Jareth shrugged. "You only formed the plan of attack when Madigh informed you that he had wounded my ward in his attempt to escape. You expected to be caught."

Luka leaned forward, uneven hair over one shoulder. "How sure are you," he asked seriously.

"The thing to note, Luka, is that I not only react as people need me to, but I react as other people might. For the Council, I am decisive and derisive. For an ally I am charming and persuasive. For Toby, I become either practical or provoking. He responds to reasoning far better, but a little goading works faster in certain situations."

"You are a bastard," came a seething remark. No respect, no grudging fear. Luka quite simply hated him.

Jareth made a note of it and angled his behaviour accordingly. The trick was not to realize that he was even responding. But Luka wanted to see the villain in him so badly that Jareth's very nature provided it instantly.

"I could do worse," the Goblin King pointed out, "I could lie to him. We know how he hates lies, however, so I am not quite willing to… but wait! I did lie to him. I had not told him that you were the one to meet Merilin. Oh, dear! Oh, well, it can do no lasting harm. I could just tell him it was for his own good."

"For his good?" Luka was tired. Very tired. Giving up was unthinkable, but getting upset was stupid. "He is not gullible."

"Yes, but he trusts me. I would never lie to him, you see." It was the most delicious irony. Jareth savoured it even as he knew it would leave a bitter taste in his captive's mouth.

"So he did not know." It made more sense, now, to Luka. Toby had been so easily pacified that afternoon. Of course, he had also come from nowhere to kill Luka's main informant, but he had been oddly eager to listen to his former boyfriend. Luka had not mentioned the meeting with Meriling from sheer self-defence. He didn't want to jeopardize what had gone so well.

"No. If I had told him, he would be upset with me for lying, and then he would see clearly that the only person to blame is you. You set up the meeting, you set up the attempted assassination and you got him back."

"An old trick, Jareth. I will not fall for it." Luka put his head down on his arms and steadfastly refused to listen to such nonsense.

Jareth dropped the guise and fell into another. "You lost the plan," he guessed.

"I have nothing further to say to you."

The Goblin King considered that. The previous two personas had worked well but their uses were over. Luka would not respond to that any more. He tried once again, just to check, watching for some kind of response that he could exploit. "Toby calls you perceptive. He is an intelligent man, Toby Williams. Is that what set all this drama in motion? To save him from my wicked wiles?"

"You could not be more wrong. Toby is no reason to kill."

"Then I suppose you just want me dead."

"I have nothing more to say to you."

Jareth nodded and let him be. Luka didn't often stand on pride. The younger fae had a remarkable capacity for laughing at himself. He did not hesitate to be a coward when he was afraid. He did not hesitate to ask or even beg for whatever he wanted, or needed. Luka had his limits, though, and he would not talk before he was ready. So Jareth left. Gildred had vanished to sort out the remainder of his assassins and no one really expected the six injured people to try to recover. If they did, they would only be beheaded.

The Goblin King spent the rest of the day dealing with his Council members and arranging funerals for his dead soldiers. Too many of his soldiers were dead. The Goblin City was in an uproar and already there were murmurs against the Outlands.

Gonzo wrote up a suitably heartening message of reassurance and had it tacked up to the door of the biggest bar in the City. Copies were also pinned to the City gates, to the Castle door and the doors of frequently visited public establishments.

Pandora and Eloise were out, meeting the families of the dead and the injured on the Goblin King's behalf. The Lady had insisted. She had lost a husband and son to skirmishes with the outlaws and she was known and respected. Jareth would have said a few bland words of vague courage and been thoroughly frustrated with the situation. Charming, of course, but short tempered. He was happy to let her do it for him.

Toby helped Yava put the Castle back to order. Not an easy task, for the bodies needed to be moved to the mortuary at the barracks and identified. Blood and body bits needed to be scrubbed off the floor and walls, carpets rolled up and taken to the backyard for a thorough washing. At one point the mortal found himself on hands and knees, working on the horrendous mess in the entranceway. After thirty hostile assassins had tramped into a wall of soldiers, the place was a massacre site. And then the kitchens needed to be started up again and the everyday running of the household begun. The goblins were understandably shaken and they had to be coaxed and cajoled into not losing their heads.

For the most part Toby was too busy to think about Gildred attacking him or Jareth suspecting his loyalty. He repeated himself patiently as a matter of course and let Yava deal with the mundane things like laundry and cooking and hysterical servants that threw their mops down and burst into wild yelling. He didn't have the time to brood on things.

But he did think of Luke. He feared for his boyfriend's safety- and to some measure his sanity- and fretted that he shouldn't care that a traitor was being questioned. It was all that business of being more open to life. Emotions always compromised reason. Toby couldn't wait to blame Jareth for this. He couldn't really see that Jareth was to blame for anything that might befall Luka in custody though. They would not reach an agreement between them. How could they? Luke despised Jareth and the Goblin King had almost been killed by the fae. He didn't take kindly to being a marked male. What deal could they possibly make to sort this out?

He had the armour and weapons taken back to the armoury and took the opportunity to help clean them. It gave his hands something to do while he took the time to think more clearly.

Luka had certainly brought all the trouble on himself. Toby didn't deny that. But he had spoken to the fae, had heard his excuses, and even if he didn't believe a word out of Luka's pretty mouth a part of him still didn't want to think that his lover could be a monster.

But Luka wasn't his lover any more, was he? No, that had ended a little less than a year ago. Still, Toby missed him. He hadn't realized how much until he saw him again. He missed not hearing a word of light chatter and being the stodgy one. He missed taking care of Luka. Toby needed to feel of some use, to have a purpose. His whole life was based around other people and he felt safest when he could be the silent support to someone else. And now he couldn't. Because they had done things over the past year that had changed them both. Luka didn't need someone to care for him any more; he needed a miracle!

"Sir? Sir?" Yava was so harried she tugged on his sleeve. "Will you come with me, please?"

Toby didn't even wait to ask why. He just got up and followed her out. There was no time for questions and reasoning. Things just had to be done, orders had to be followed. On the way he noted that the elves were deep in a serious discussion in one of the rooms. A harried secretary came scurrying out just as he passed the door. The brief moment caught Merilin's eye and the cool appraisal made Toby feel even more tired of the confusion. Whatever had been left of his ordered existence was now temporarily torn apart. He didn't see it, or himself, returning any time soon.

Jareth was waiting for him in a small sitting room close by, moodily drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He looked up when the door opened and beckoned the silent man in. "Sit down. Water?"

"Thank you." Toby took the glass and drained it.

Jareth filled it again without needing to ask. "You look heated. Do they have you chopping wood again?"

"No. Cleaning weapons. And I elected to do it. Someone has to," Toby added.

"Yes," his guardian agreed. Dual-coloured eyes looked suspiciously at the door for a moment and then turned back to Toby. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I am fine."

"You spent an afternoon with Luka after hearing of his plans and killing his informant. You did not rush back here to raise the alarm. Why? You refused to defend yourself against Gildred. He would have killed you and I would not have stopped him. Once again, why?"

"I have no answer."

Jareth waited but this time Toby refused to be intimidated into saying the first words in his head. The Goblin King sighed and got up. He tugged on the bellpull by the door and waited. Toby rose too, fully expecting to be sent back to the next job awaiting him somewhere in the Castle. Probably it would be chopping wood, too! The assassins' bodies would be burned instead of buried, as was the usual mark of respect for the dead in the Underground. However, when Ezreeka arrived, Jareth asked that food be brought for the both of them.

"We can do with a rest," the fae remarked, showing every ounce of the tiredness he felt. Operating on physical, magical and managerial levels simultaneously could make anyone exhausted. And Jareth's stamina had run its course. So the Goblin King sat down on the long couch and Toby sat down beside him. It seemed perfectly natural to the both of them to have Jareth lie down with his head in Toby's lap, murmuring nothing in particular as the mortal eased the tension hammering in his temples with a gentle hand. It seemed very natural.

When Ezreeka returned, Toby got the tray and pulled up a table. It was a very simple meal and neither of them used formal manners as they picked at it. Eventually, Toby got out from under Jareth and sat on the floor instead, resting his back against the couch as he reached for the wine apple lying conspicuously in the corner of the tray. Jareth didn't bother shifting.

They didn't say anything. They preferred the silence. Words were usually misinterpreted and neither wanted to argue. Not really, at any rate. They might lash out to relieve a little stress, but angry words between the two of them would be an argument. They didn't want to argue.

Jareth absently played with the grown-out strands of golden hair that curled at the back of Toby's neck. It really did remind him of Karen. It was the exact shade. He said so, not expecting a reply. Until it occurred to him that the End-of-Year Ball was almost upon them and, traditionally speaking, families exchanged gifts. Toby was soon to be family.

"I should write those adoption papers out," he said aloud, "Her Ladyship wants them signed before the Ball."

"It seems strange," Toby replied, "And wholly impossible."

"You are my mother's son as surely as I am."

"Only by chance. If my parents were alive I would live Aboveground. I would have finished school, gone to college and gotten a job. Somewhere along the way I would have met someone I was attracted to and made love to him. Maybe even loved him completely."

"It's not so different down here," Jareth said gently, "We all have a job. Everyone spends their lives growing from child to adult. The measure of an adult is to take his or her responsible place in society. And we all eventually find someone we are attracted to and we make love to them. Maybe even fall in love with them. It is the way of every single thinking race in existence. It has to be. There can be no other way."

"It feels pointless."

"Falling in love or getting a job?"

"Both."

"I think you should go out. Take Serenity out of her stall. She needs a good, long ride. Trust me, flying far above the reach of everyday life can put a lot of things in perspective."

Toby turned that over in his head. '_Trust me_'. He had no reason to trust Jareth. Only, Jareth had an uncanny ability to see things from so many perspectives that he was undoubtedly right… again. And flying as far away as he could get for a while would be a good way to escape the cloying smell of soap and grease. Get away from harried servants and worried politicians and furious patriots. Even away from Jervohl and the way she automatically drifted to Gildred's side with no conscious thought. Get away from the looming question of 'what now'. "Have you spoken to Luke yet?"

Jareth sat up. "I have."

"May I?"

"What have you to say to him?"

Toby frowned. "That is private," he rebuked, "I am not going to tell you."

Jareth sighed and lifted a hand to his medallion. "Toby, Luka is not the person you want to spend the rest of your life regretting. And he will make you regret it if you persist in lying to yourself that he is something you need. Let him go. He will do you no good."

"When have emotions ever been subject to sense?" Toby challenged, "No one ever chooses someone to love. They just do."

"This is exactly what I have been trying to show you," Jareth exclaimed, his voice rising, "You cannot separate your emotions from your bloody reason, but you can bloody well stop giving in to them! All it requires is for you to balance the two! Is it so hard?"

"Stop shouting!" Toby made the considerable effort of lowering his voice. "Look, all I asked is to see my former lover. I just want an answer."

"Should it matter what I say?"

"Yeah. You are the King of the Goblins and Luka is your prisoner. You will not let just anyone see him without your permission?"

"Toby, if Luka had a wife, I would have let her see him. If he had had anyone in the world that desired to see him, I would allow it. Why? Because all he does in his cell right now is drive himself insane with his own thoughts. He is in solitary confinement, he is in a cheerless room with nothing to occupy his attention and he has just headed a massive failure of a plan that has placed him in the unenviable position of certainly being sentenced to execution. An insane prisoner is not going to make my job easier because he will combat that insanity in two ways- he will either be repentant, or he will be defiant. If he is repentant, I appear a monster. If he is defiant, he does. Do you see my point?"

"No."

Jareth stretched first. "Sending you in will make him predisposed to end this fiasco. He will talk, or he will not. But he will end it. And why? Because just now you look as though a horse has kicked you in the midsection and he will feel sorry for himself for hurting you and he will want it over with."

Toby tried to find his way through the twisting logic and gave up. "So I may see him?" he settled on.

"No." Jareth stared at the ceiling and ignored Toby for just a little while. When Toby eventually stopped exclaiming at the injustice of it all, he said, "I don't want you anywhere near there."

"Why not? You just said I could be of some help. You said I could make him end this."

"You could. But your reputation will suffer by relation and I cannot have my ward's honour questioned."

"Stuff my honour," Toby said bracingly, "I don't care for it."

Jareth smiled to himself and thought how different it was to the way Toby had behaved before. Before, Toby would have been scandalized, would have asked to see Luka, but only in order to ask him why he had committed this terrible crime. Now, Toby only wanted to see him again, just to make sure he was all right. And he didn't care what anyone else thought of him for doing it. The year had had effect, then. Jareth was glad.

"Jareth, please?"

This time the Goblin King looked back down from the ceiling in surprise, not certain that he had heard right. But Toby was honestly petitioning him in earnest for the right to see his former lover. "_I_ cannot stop you," was all the fae allowed himself to say.

Toby took it as a positive answer and went instantly.

Jareth conjured up the crystal and watched only until the door of the holding cell was opened and Toby went in. He watched a little bit longer to see the way that large hand took a careful hold of Luka's pointed chin to better get a look at the four parallel scratches on his cheek, and the way that Luka favoured the bruises where Gildred had kicked him. Then he banished the crystal and got back to work.


	59. Aye Aye!

Author's Note: Completely off the wall, but I just had to write it.

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"May I come in?"

"Come in." Jareth put down his book and stifled a sigh. He wasn't in the mood for another serious discussion. All he wanted to do was read about someone he didn't care for going through a sufficiently amusing amount of trouble and then he wanted to go to sleep.

Toby came in and shut the door, just looking at him.

Jareth was prepared for anything. He was even prepared for his ward to burst into tears and start proclaiming his love for Luka. Only, Toby didn't look as if he was particularly distraught. He looked a little drained, a little pensive, but even as the clocks ticked down the seconds those blue eyes seemed to grow brighter.

"I spoke to Luka," Toby finally began, "He is willing to talk. He says he will tell you anything you want to know. And he says that you are a bastard and he hates you with all the passion of his soul."

"Good to know." The Goblin King reluctantly discarded his book and got out of bed. "Well, if he is in the mood to talk I suppose I should go and… why are you mooing at me?"

Toby bit his lip but couldn't hide the smile as he stopped 'mooing' and moved Jareth back to the bed. "Tomorrow," he allowed, "You can talk to him tomorrow. He is hardly going to run away."

"Yes, but I will get more out of him now. Let me go, you insane man!"

Toby pushed hard and smiled sweetly when the fae glared up at him. "Tomorrow," he repeated, "You can talk to him in the morning. For now, you need to sleep. I demand that you rest."

"_You_ demand? What gives you the right to…"

Toby cut in fairly easily. "Call it brotherly concern."

"Good God!"

"I thought the Underground didn't believe in God?"

"Humanity is catching," Jareth snapped. He sat up and tilted his chin, trying to read those perfectly open blue eyes. He wasn't really interested in Luka at the moment and Toby gave him the excuse to put it off for a while. He really was more interested in his bed. "Is that all?"

"Well, all of what concerns Luka, yes. Lie down. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, mother."

"Hush! Lie down!"

Jareth raised an eyebrow but complied. Wondering just how pure Toby's intentions were and then congratulated himself when the mortal joined him. "I see you have other work for me to do," he commented dryly.

Toby looked as guileless as a child. "Not at all," he protested, "I wanted some company tonight. I just ended a relationship. I could cry." There was not a tear to be seen.

"Ah." Jareth nodded sagely, his own humour waking up. "I recommend mindless rutting."

"You always recommend mindless rutting. If I were dying you would recommend mindless rutting."

"Would you want to die without one last night of pleasure?"

"No. But do you not fear that I might- what was the term that Dr. Beck used- transfer my affections?"

"Transfer… what are you talking about?" Jareth was completely at sea. The Underground mostly called a spade a spade. While the Goblin King was more accomodatingthan most, even he had a hard time understanding why mortals excused anything on the grounds of psychological disorder. He personally believed that most of what was wrong with humans was refusing responsibility for their own actions.

Toby shrugged. He didn't understand very much of it either. But Dr. Beck had been a huge phenomenon amongst the younger adults of the Underground because of his magnanimous dispensation of psychological verse to all and sundry. It was like fortune-telling, but more exotic. "Something to do with healing your hurt from one relationship by falling headfirst into another."

Jareth snorted. "It is called desperation," he said plainly, "When a person cannot have the cookie in the jar on the top shelf, he settles for the crumbs left on the plate on the table."

"Humans are a curious breed," Toby nodded.

"You are human."

"Not really. I am human, but I act like any from the Underground. That makes me not-human."

"Inhuman, in fact," Jareth teased.

"Hah! Jest if you must, but we both know who the most empathetic person is."

"Sympathetic, Toby, not empathetic. Empathy implies that you share another's emotions. You do not. You just feel sorry for someone else's plight."

"I feel sorry for you," Toby pointed out, "You were almost on the path to having very good sex tonight. But now I think I shall lie here and sulk."

Jareth chuckled and curled around him, all silken skin and hard bone.

Toby smiled when he began to feel the heat pour from the fae's skin to his own. He put his arms around the slender waist, tilting his head invitingly. It was still such a new thing, this attraction. True attraction, not like the resigned coupling of the previous months. He wanted Jareth, felt reasonably convinced that Jareth found something interesting in him. It was easy with Jareth. It didn't matter what they felt; in the bedroom, it was always a friendly romp that usually ended with a laugh.

It was strange, this, wriggling under Jareth as the fae alternated a mocking insult with a kiss. Laughing when Jareth began a monologue on the stupidity of mortals and how bad they usually were at seductions when the fae's nimble fingers tried to undress him without actually having the space to do so.

"Stop, stop," Toby begged, laughing so hard he got a stitch in his side, "Let go. You'll tear it." He scrambled around until he could get his shirt off. "There. Better?"

"Mmm… let me see." Jareth pressed up close and slithered. There was no other word for it. It was all just muscle stretching and twisting and contracting as he set limb to limb and hip to hip. The sizes were wrong, but he managed it somehow. "Much better," he complimented.

"Good. What about these?" Toby tugged at the waistband of the breeches Jareth hadn't bothered to take off. Most people wore loose, thin trousers to sleep in but not Jareth. Jareth either slept nude or couldn't be bothered undressing.

"I was going to leave them on."

"Oh no, you won't! I will have a lot to say about that!" Toby tugged harder. "Come on! Off or I shall tear them."

Jareth resisted and winked mischievously. "I have a better way. Shall we play a game?"

"A game? No! No games! I know you and you will find some way to make sure you win."

"I like winning."

"Good."

"And when I win I usually feel very magnanimous and happy. I also usually feel more open to being- what did you once call me- a whore? Yes, that."

Toby softened and twirled the lock of light blond hair in his fingers. "I never meant it," he murmured, "Not in the way it sounds."

"Forget and forgive. Besides, it was not quite an insult." Jareth grinned, knowing full well that Toby didn't believe him. But in all seriousness, what would be the point of protecting his virtue. It had vanished some many lovers ago! Jareth had heard worse said about his ways behind his back. "You look ashamed."

"I was rude. And I was stupid."

"I have always said so."

"Hey!"

"Horse."

Toby pinched a lean flank in revenge. "Evil, evil creature," he accused, "You are being deliberately provoking."

"Yes, but I am still waiting for a reaction. What _are_ you thinking of? We're both half naked in bed and talking about sex and all you can do is offer platitudes about some fight we once had? You're worse than a female!"

Toby rolled, trapping the Goblin King beneath him and tilting his chin up. "A female, am I? _I_ am not the one who spreads his legs at a moment's notice as ready payment," he growled, "Not a whore? A courtesan, perhaps- one who pays for his upkeep with his body?"

Lids flicked down coyly over mismatched eyes, sharp cheekbones staining red with a flush of anticipation. The deep voice was ragged at the edges, too soft and too breathy. Hot,capable hands let go and lay passively just above the light blond head. "I owe you no payment," Jareth commented.

"And I ask for none. Call it a shared pleasure." Toby let Jareth up and shrugged ruefully at the enquiring look. "I like to feel equal when sharing a bed. Power games are not a part of my enjoyment."

The Goblin King smirked and gathered himself into a crouched position. Then he pounced. Toby yelped in shock but the fae wouldn't cease. Long fingers dug into ribs and snuck around all those places on the human body that were said to be ticklish. Toby squirmed, true enough, and tried to get away as he choked on his laughter, but it wasn't until Jareth accidentally slid his fingers along the back of the mortal's left knee that Toby begged him to stop.

"Enough," the mortal gasped, struggling away, "Enough."

Jareth sat back and looked very pleased with himself. "You relented first," he boasted, "Therefore the breeches stay. As a sign of my magnanimous pleasure in winning the game, you may keep yours on as well."

"Thank you," Toby said dryly, "You are indeed merciful, Your Majesty."

"Ah-ah-ah! Equals in this bed, Toby. Out of it, of course, I demand the proper respect as your guardian and King. And elder brother too, now I think of it."

"Good God!"

"I thought the Underground did not believe in God?"

Toby whacked the fae between the shoulder blades. "I am not yet one of you lot," he sniffed, "Keep this up and I might even decide never to be."

"How will we survive. Well, brat? Am I to infer that you really will take citizenship?" Jareth propped himself up against the headboard and folded his arms comfortably. "It is a forgone conclusion with the adoption, you know. There will be a lot of outcry if the law permits a non-converting human to profit from the death of one of the Underground. I would be called on to send you back where you belong. Truthfully speaking, humans belong up there unless they are given to me."

"The Lady said that I cannot be forced to convert. Why is that? Vinni never did explain."

"You chose, Toby. I was given no power over you because you kept it by making your own decisions. Everyone else that I bring down here is sent by someone else that has power over them. That power is transferred to me and as I cannot have a bunch of humans running wild in the Underground, they convert to one of the Underground races. They have no choice in that either because I make the decision for them, using the power that I was given. I let them choose what they will become. No point turning someone into an elf if they have no natural aptitude for it. But as I said, I cannot force you."

"I am presuming not many people wish themselves away very often."

"None in my time. None for King Hayle either."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, I cannot answer any wish from the Aboveground unless it directly calls upon me or the goblins. As I am their absolute monarch, I own the wretched little things. Anything wished to them comes first to me. For another, not many humans really believe in the Underground. There must be a certain amount of belief for the wish to penetrate the barriers between the worlds. How else am I to hear it?"

Toby nodded slowly and absorbed it all. Most of this he knew, but asking Jareth directly made it seem a lot more real. At any moment, a human from the Aboveground would call and ask that he take someone they did not want. And like Sarah, they would either want him or her back, or like that nasty little brat from two years ago, they would be very happy to be rid of whoever it was. Tragic, but then immature people were selfish like that.

"Is this really why you came to my room at this time of night?"

"Would you prefer I left?" Toby asked seriously.

Jareth shrugged. "I was hoping to get some sleep," he admitted, "Or at least, some rest."

"Ah. I should leave then."

Jareth watched him get up and pick up the shirt. Toby didn't look very unhappy about being asked delicately to leave. But Jareth was no longer in the mood to read that book again before he fell asleep. He was restless, and he was morose. What he needed, he realized, was a good laugh.

Toby barely opened the door when Jareth grabbed him by the arm and tugged him after him, grinning like a devil with an obvious plan dawning in that busy brain of him. "Do you remember that first night?" Jareth tossed over his shoulder, moving swiftly up the stairs, "The bath?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Hurry, hurry! Someone might see."

Toby raised an eyebrow but continued without question. Jareth's excitement was infectious and the mad part of his mind couldn't help but wonder gleefully what reckless scheme his guardian had come up with. It didn't take long before he realized that Jareth was taking him up to the suite they had shared so painfully before. The doors were both firmly shut, but Jareth strode into the library and snatched up a stack of paper from the desk before slipping lightly out again. "Bathroom," he said shortly.

Toby was now bewildered. The suite he could understand. Jareth kept bringing him there for privacy since no one else would ever dare enter those rooms without the permission of the Goblin King. Jareth was never around to give his permission so they were safe for the most part. But privacy apart, why the bathroom? That was a puzzle. And why paper? What in all the possible worlds would Jareth want to play around with paper in a bathroom for?

He found out when a sheet was thrust into his hands and he was sternly told to make a boat. He stared at Jareth's perfectly serious face.

"Have you never made a paper boat before?" Jareth asked in astonishment, "Surely someone taught you!"

"Er… no, not really."

"Oh. Well, it is quite simple." Jareth swiftly ran through the various steps- chattering all the while- and then laughed out loud when Toby tried it.

There was something very weird about sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom, still not fully dressed, with a lively fae telling one how to make a paper boat. Jareth was at his animated best, laughing and talking and joking all in one breath. Very frequently, his fingers dived in between Toby's to stop the mortal making a mess, only to confuse everything up and make a thorough muddle. Then they would both laugh and the unfortunately torn or crumpled paper would be tossed aside and kept for another vague purpose. Toby even found himself relaxing enough to enjoy this juvenile activity.

"Dieter and I learned from Franja. For a whole six months, we left a trail of paper boats behind us everywhere we went," Jareth told him, "When we were finally forbidden from wasting any more paper, we resorted to using cloth, leaves and various other highly unsuitable materials. Here! That should be enough."

They looked proudly at the six boats sitting on the tile between them.

And then Jareth snapped back into action. "Three each," he commanded, "And now for the play."

The play? Toby opened his mouth to ask but thought better of it. He'd never seen his lover in such a mood. He'd never _heard_ of his lover in such a mood! No one had ever mentioned Jareth sitting on the tile beside an enormous bathtub and preparing to play with paper boats. Nothing had ever- and Toby had been through a lot in the past nine months alone- hinted at that. Toby's only predicament was whether he wanted to play along. On the one hand, it wasn't something the adult side of him found very appealing. On the other, how many other times in his life had someone offered to sail paper boats in a tub with him? It would be an experience, to say the least.

"That is your navy," Jareth told him, jealously separating the two of them, "And this is mine. Name your troops!"

"What?" Toby was laughing before he even realized it.

"Believe me this is fun," Jareth assured him, laughing as well, "Go on. Think of a name."

"Kersel?" Toby suggested.

"You named your navy after a flower? What kind of navy is that?"

"Alright, alright." Toby remembered stories from the Aboveground dealing with pirates. And it gave him an idea. "May I change the story a little? Thank you. Now, you can be the King's Navy- all fair and aboveboard- and my boats will be a band of bloodthirsty pirates trying to get the treasure that you are transporting to another country. Say it is a shipment of precious stones for a trade of carrions."

"Why do I want creatures that eat the dead?" Jareth questioned.

"Because of your Labyrinth. You are going to turn them loose to frighten the challengers. And this," Toby set his first boat in the water, "Is the all-important battle between your ships and mine."

The Goblin King shrugged and nodded. "Agreed. But I have another suggestion. You can be the King's Navy and I want to be the Pirates."

"Why?"

"Call it a change of pace," Jareth teased, "Or do you think you haven't the wit for a Kingship?"

Toby popped the other two into the bath. "Have not the wit, have I? On your guard, you rogue traitor to crown and country! How dare you steal from your King?"

Had anyone else passed by the room they would have been startled to hear peals of laughter from the open doors of the suite at such an unsuitable hour of the night. As it was, only Ezreeka heard it. She philosophically put the note she had been instructed to deliver back into her pocket and went away very quietly. There was little enough laughter as it was in the Castle that night. As an elf, she could not say she wanted the happiness gone from the stone walls.

She went back the next morning to find Toby had left and Jareth peacefully asleep in the bed. There had been two, however, and the indented pillow bore the signs of an early departure. She slipped into the bathroom, not sure what she expected to see. She certainly had not expected to see soggy paper boats that had been sailed so long they had finally sunk in the bathtub, or a discarded shirt in the puddles on the tile. There was water everywhere, as if two people had been splashing happily around and then decided to throw it at each other when the friendly battle moved from boats to playful shoving.

Jareth left the next morning, as serious as he had ever been and as mature as was befitting his station. Ezreeka stifled the giggle at that twinkle in his eyes when she demurely told him she would clean up the mess in the bathroom.


	60. May Be

"Very clever," Luka complimented, "Sending my former lover to talk sense into me. I should have expected it."

"You did not expect it?" Jareth didn't move from his comfortable place at the table and sipped at his glass of viraag. "Why ever not?"

"I thought you would keep your ward as far away from me as possible," Luka explained, "Dishonour being such a disagreeable state for someone about to become your brother."

"He told you, I see."

"He told me a lot. He also told me you blinded him."

Jareth didn't react. He just waited, very patiently, for Luka to finish.

Not that the fae was allowing his feelings to get the better of his senses either. His voice was steady and he gave no sign of wanting to kill either himself or Jareth to escape the latter's presence. "Of course, he said it was his fault and that he had said certain unforgivable things to you to merit such a retaliation. I chose not to try to show him the truth."

"The truth is subjective," Jareth dismissed, "The truth is that Toby is completely right… as far as he is concerned." Luka still needed a villain. The Goblin King did not mind providing it. "The question is what am I to do with you?"

The guards were waiting within in the pretty sitting room, on edge because the both of them had knew Luka since he was a young child and the both of them were experiencing a distinctive dilemma. Why had the Goblin King- having already shown signs of severe nastiness as far as Luka was concerned- brought the prisoner out to a sitting room to share breakfast with him? Moreover, why had he supplied the proper cutlery and bits that could make potentially damaging weapons? It was asking for trouble even if they did remember teaching Luka how to ride his first koern.

"Eat, Luka. I am sure the food they serve prisoners is awful," Jareth remarked, swallowing his mouthful and noticing how hungry his guest was. "Did they feed you at all?"

"You gave no orders to feed us," Luka said bluntly, "In point of fact, you told them to keep us alive but to make us uncomfortable. We were kept in absolute darkness, with no heat source, and no food or drink."

Jareth winced. "I should have guarded against that. You," he turned to the nearest guard, "See to it personally that every prisoner is tended as well as one of our own citizens might be. See that they have plenty to eat and drink. Provide them with enough light and warmth. Make sure their bedding is acceptable and changed every day. All of those who are injured are to have good medical attention and plenty of care. And then see that whatever Lord Gildred has done to them is treated as well. Anything else? Yes, they will all remain separated from any other living influence."

Luka saw it for what it was- more of a torment than a courteous treatment. Jareth wasn't being nice; he was giving the prisoners everything they needed to keep them healthy, just so he knew they would be in prime condition to suffer through whatever it was the future had in store for them. For the six assassins, it would mean visits from their own Lord- never a good thing for Gildred's legend was as an unforgiving master that did not take kindly to those who opposed him. For Luka, it could mean anything at all.

"All of you can go," Jareth ended, dismissing his guards outright.

They left, albeit reluctantly, and only because they were clearly ordered to do so.

"Tell me, Luka. What do you think I should do with you?"

The fae licked the sugar off his spoon in contemplative silence. "The law calls for an execution. The method of killing me is left to the discretion of the Goblin King. However, I would say that you should let me go, a free being with the favour of the Goblin King to protect his innocence."

"You want me to set you free."

"And clear my name, of course."

"Do you think I can do that?"

"Ask me your questions and I shall confess. I will give you the names of every mutineer that strove for your downfall and the downfall of the Outlands King as a bonus. I will stay away from Toby and I will leave this cursed place for a country over the Sea where I can do you no harm."

Jareth picked up his glass and sipped again, openly amused as he shook his head. "You know I will do no such thing as declare you innocent," he remarked, "Why should I? You led a battalion of assassins into my Castle with the express purpose of killing Lord Gildred and I. If that were not treason enough, you would have also killed the Council members, leaving the country without any government at all. I do not know how Gildred feels about his lieutenants being in danger, but I have a tiny spark of responsibility in my soul that tells me I should be very angry with you for being such a pest."

Luka flushed but he hadn't exactly hoped to be set free. As he had told Toby that afternoon in the forest, his part was to stay hidden away while Madigh led the assassins in battle. Then, when victory was assured and the Council and Jareth was either dead or injured- hopefully dead- Luka could step forward a few weeks later and help the faltering government back to shape. Along the way he could bring his own contacts into place and by the time anyone noticed that his story did not tally, he would have been firmly ensconced in the New Council. Hopefully, with the new King being a sullen child that he could lead easily. But then one afternoon had changed his mind. Toby had known. Luka knew Toby would not sit by and stay out of it. Toby had told him that under no circumstances would he see the Goblin King harmed in any way, even if he did agree that he was a bastard and a cancer. After that, the entire plan had deflated and Luka just could not be bothered.

"I can give you details," the fae sighed, "For that alone I should have some assurance."

Jareth considered it. "I have no desire to know the details," he informed his captive, "I think the entire thing was given far too much attention in the first place. You only performed because you thought you had an audience. Your audience will be taken away. You will not do it again."

Luka was startled. Audience indeed! As though he were a petulant youth who had defiantly refused to back down from a challenge. "But it will show you to be proactive, to be protecting your people," he exclaimed, "Why would you not want to know?

"My people will think what they like. Ultimately I am still King. They do not dare challenge my authority, especially since you have tried and failed. Hence, I have no interest in you beyond getting rid of you."

"Kill me, then." Luka picked up the knife in a temper and placed it to his wrist.

Jareth raised a cool, dark brow and cupped his chin in his hands. "I was going to release you instead," he admitted.

The knife stopped. "What?"

The smirk was slow in beginning, but once it made its presence felt there could be no doubt that Jareth had some scheme up his sleeve. "I do not want you. Toby is done with you and to be fair, all you do is corrupt my ward. Your elder brother would rather change his name than greet you as family. I could keep you here indefinitely but you simply take up space. So you may go."

"Go? Where am I to go?"

"There is land out there," Jareth commented, examining his nails, "Land which neither the Underground nor the Outlands have claimed. Wild territory that is said to be the haunt of those who can find no place in any civilized society. Those gangs might welcome you. Your mind is very like theirs."

"Am I… but surely…"

"I suggest that now the guards are gone, it will be a good time to grab that knife and make your escape. Gildred was right- you have declared yourself an outlaw. But as you fought him as well, you are a true outlaw as none have been for a long time. Be happy. You seem to be creating a legend around your name." Jareth chuckled quietly to himself, hands in his lap and his legs stretched out under the table. He didn't move from his comfortable position.

Luka looked at the knife still hovering over his wrist, looked at the smirking face across from him and was at a loss to think of his options. There were only two- stay, or go. But with Jareth, those could mean so many consequences. The Goblin King could be testing him, looking for a way to trap him even more than he already had. Luka didn't trust him but he wanted his freedom badly enough to consider that Jareth might be offering something more.

Jareth sighed and lowered his voice to a pleasant drawl- "Help," he said blandly, "Guards, guards. The prisoner is escaping. Help; help. What am I to do? A helpless king threatened by a knife. Guards. Oh, where are my guards?"

Luka was even more befuddled but the time to think had passed. He had to act now if he was to act at all. Picking up the knife, he rose from his place and Jareth tossed his black cloak unexpectedly at him with an almost kindly smile.

"Do not forget this," the Goblin King broke in, "Your sword is behind the couch and there is a pack beside the sword to keep you in food for several days. Go. Hurry. Guards, guards. He is escaping."

Luka looked at the knife, thought of how much he hated the Goblin King and the wild idea took him that he could really finish this, that Jareth had forgotten he was still capable of biting the hand that was trying to feed him for some unknown reason. So he took two steps closer and those eyes darkened and the room suddenly spun and fell away.

"I would not do that if I were you," Jareth warned softly.

Luka backed away in a panic and looked to where the pack and the sword came clattering down at his feet. The room had fragmented and the very walls themselves were floating away in a flurry of chaos-induced wind. Jareth's voice was everywhere, echoing like thunder as he repeated his expressionless call to the guards like a bored mantra. Over and over. Making his alibi while Luka was to escape. But those eyes… no one could mistake the ruthless murder in those eyes.

The window yawned like a chasm beside them both, black and stormy. It looked nothing like an escape route. But Luka took his pack and stuck the knife in his sword belt and took one last deep breath before he ran for it. Jumping lightly to the sill and then out. He fell. He _felt_ himself fall. The window had been on the fourth floor. By rights he should break his back if not his head. But in an eternity and in no time at all- he could still hear the frenzied ticking of the clock from the sitting room- he landed on the grass and rolled instinctively into a ball to protect his bones. Rising swiftly from his soft landing and making for cover before he had had time to think, let alone plan.

He turned, looked back at the Castle, looking up to window and thought of Toby. But the affection was not worth a life, even when it had been at its peak. For Toby as much as for himself. Luka had quite loved him, but the fae was not the kind to keep any kind of sustained love. And this one was over. It had been… comfortable, and easy, but it was over.

He could almost hear Jareth's voice tell him that he was to stay away from Toby if he didn't want to have his flesh shredded painfully from his bones. He fled, sparing only a glance at the koern he slipped away to avoid.

Jareth looked out of the window and caught that flash of black. But those hooded cloaks really were amazing. Perhaps it was the training more than the cloaks, but those trained in Gildred's army were almost impossible to see in the darkness when they wore them. He smiled when he saw who had turned up on his doorstep.

Elban had heard all about the attack, of course, considering the whole country was talking about it. If the talk had not been enough, he had ridden early into the Goblin City and been assaulted by the sound of wailing mourners and the sight of public shrines set up outside the family homes of those that had not survived it. The healer had passed him in the street, looking tired and run off his feet. Beran had hailed him and offered to get him quicker to wherever it was he wanted to go. Being the softhearted dwarf that he was, Elban had not expected less. Being the single-minded forest sprite that Elban was, Beran had not expected Elban to go with them.

So it was that the first person into the door of the sitting room was the blurry green and white whirlwind that threw itself into the Goblin King's arms.

"As you can see," Jareth pointed out, "I am absolutely unharmed." He disentangled himself for good measure. With certain people, he didn't like to establish a relationship on touch; it was too much of a temptation when certain other situations arose.

Elban let him go but collapsed into a chair and fanned his heated face with his hand. "I was so worried," he panted, "We heard about the attack and one of the dwarves in the City mentioned something about the Lady Pandora. Is she alright?"

"Elban, hush. Quiet, now. She is fine." The forest sprite had certainly worked himself into a state. He was almost choking on his own breath. "Not a word! Just breathe. When you get your breath back, there is water here for you. Then you may ask me anything. But I can set your mind at rest- no one is hurt that you know. A lot of soldiers and most of the attackers, but no one else. Which reminds me!"

He unbent and went to the door, summoning the guards in a loud shout.

About four guards came running at full tilt, expecting someone to have been murdered.

"The prisoner escaped," Jareth said baldly, "Put out a notice that Luka is extremely dangerous and has a weapon. No one is to approach him. In my opinion he is mentally unbalanced and violent. Take guards to the City and station them around the Castle in case he tries to attack for some crazed reason."

"But, Sire! How did he…"

"He picked up the breadknife and jumped out the window," Jareth supplied helpfully.

"Then we should…"

"No," he snapped firmly, "We should do what I _tell_ us to do."

The guards saluted and left. Jareth calculated that it would take an hour for Gibil to find out and run to tell Toby, after which, Toby would immediately be suspicious and come to find him. So he had an hour to think about the excuse that he would provide Toby. It was enough. And Elban would not… he turned around to find his best friend glaring balefully at him from over the lip of the glass of water.

"Something wrong?"

"You let him go," Elban accused, "You stupid fool! You let him go!"

"Me?" Jareth was openly horrified. "Are you accusing me of plotting to let a traitor to my people and a murderer walk free? Next you will accuse me of managing the attack myself. Really, Elban, you have too little faith in me."

"Drop the act, Jareth. I know you. Sit helplessly by while some little fae brandishes a knife? Crazed or not, you would not have let him walk out that door unless you wanted him to. You could have dropped him dead without more than a wish! What were you thinking?"

"I always think, Elban. It is, alas, a vice." Jareth sat down and delicately tapped his right temple. "I try not to think at all but then I begin to crave it again a few moments later."

"Jareth…"

"What would you have me say, Elban? I was hardly going to execute him. I can punish people, I can outlaw them, and I can torture them. But kill them in cold blood without personal provocation? I see no reason for such a wanton waste of life. The attack was a terrible thing to happen. The families have my sympathies and my thanks for what their loved ones gave their lives to protect. If they were to kill him, I would have no trial for murder for them."

Elban tilted his head. He liked to think that he knew Jareth better than anyone else. It was fair to say that no one knew him at all. Jareth was honest, but only after his own fashion, which made it hard to predict whether he was telling the truth or just his version of it. It made no sense to him that Jareth couldn't kill Luka. He knew several instances where he had feared Jareth would kill just for the sake of destroying something. The Goblin King had never taken kindly to people thwarting his easy existence and threatening his power. The general consensus was that he would kill anyone who tried it. Which made it impossible to understand this turn of events.

"I do not believe you," he settled on, "There is another reason. Simply because I know you have no compunctions with death or killing. You would justify it satisfactorily to yourself. And you would do it personally."

"I have no other explanation."

"Not true."

"You will have to think hard for a motive, then. I cannot supply you with fairytales."

"Jareth, the truth. Tell me the truth. I will not say a word. I will not ask again. Just tell me the reason you let Luka go after everything he did to you."

"Me?" Jareth sat down and looked very humoured by the thought. "He did nothing to me. He hurt everyone else but myself. It is no skin off my nose if he were to flee the country. Besides, with no outlaws, how are we to frighten the children into behaving?" He laughed to himself and finished off his glass of viraag quite happily. He poured himself a little more and drank that too, brushing his hands off as he finished his breakfast.

Elban was having an idea. They didn't often come, these flashes of insight. And this one had vanished before he could properly think it. But there was a reason that Jareth had let him go and it was not because it was a sudden fancy of his to see the other fae get loose. He was making no attempt to have him recaptured so it was nothing to do with prolonged torture and hunting him down. And why?

The Goblin King changed the subject. For the next hour or so, he went over the adoption papers that he had already drafted in his study. The document was long, but like most documents in the Underground it was straightforward and lacking in clever subtlety. Lawyers were not encouraged to split hairs over the meaning of certain words. Another person always witnessed the document and all parties involved signed it. Apart from that, it was just a matter of writing.

True enough, however, it was an hour before Toby knocked agitatedly on the door and demanded the explanation to such a shocking rumour. "How could he escape?" he shouted, "Why did you bring him here and put him in arm's reach of a knife? For pity's sake, are you insane? He could have killed you!"

Both males were over a hundred years old, and while they were aware of the usual custom in the Underground for not reading too much into things, it was very telling that the only reason Toby was upset was because he feared the danger to his guardian.

Elban suppressed a smile. He'd always had his suspicions about that. And true to his suspicions, Jareth hadn't a clue. From the look on his face he was more puzzled and resigned to Toby's possessive fussing. Elban thought it was sweet. And about time, too! After which a thought erupted- the two were about to become brothers. He choked on the bread in his throat and had to be patted on the back.

Toby softened his voice and apologized briefly for intruding on a private meeting. "Hello, Elban," he added belatedly, "Forgive all the yelling but I had a grievance to take up with _His Majesty_."

"Toby, I hardly thought he would use this symbol of goodwill to make his escape. Besides, he is the son of my predecessor. I could not, in all conscience, see him treated badly."

"Ha!" Toby didn't believe a word for it. Unlike Elban, however, he didn't have any other ideas why.

Elban did. He suddenly remembered the motive he had thought of and it was beginning to make a lot of sense. "Well, perhaps he did not want to hurt him," he said unexpectedly. Two sets of blank eyes looked at him. "When Luka was brandishing a knife, I mean," the forest sprite tried again, "Jareth's power can be unpredictable. He did not want to hurt him and so he hesitated. Luka used the moment to escape."

Toby looked at Jareth in frustrated enquiry. "I know I asked you not to hurt him, but giving him the chance to slit your throat was not what I meant."

The Goblin King blinked innocently at him and let him think what he wanted.

Eventually, Toby went away again, muttering about 'damned fae who had a death wish in the Wishing Lands'. Jareth sat down again with a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes. "I have to leave. I have other work to do. Yava will have you taken to your room where you can freshen up. Any servant can lead you to the Lady Pandora's suite where she will regale you with the exciting tales of Jervohl's engagement and Madigh's unfortunate episode with a crossbow- in that order. Have dinner with me tonight? Just the two of us. Leave Beran to eat with the others."

Once again, Jareth was leaning on Elban for company. He only did that when there was something troubling him. That made Elban worry. "You did it for Toby, didn't you?" he asked, stopping him from leaving by holding up a hand, "He said he asked you for it."

"He asked me not to torture him."

"I cannot explain it. But the only motives that fit is either that Luka somehow convinced you to let him go or you did it for Toby. I have no idea _why_ you would do it for Toby, but I think you did."

"Nonsense," Jareth laughed, leaving the room, "Of all the theories!"

Elban sat quietly in the room for a moment and thought about it. That look on Jareth's face: self-destructive again. He recognized it when he saw it. It meant that Jareth was doing something to cover something more important. And then Toby had turned his back and that other look had fallen into the mismatched eyes. The same look, Elban considered, that Jareth had used when he had started watching Sarah. Unconscious care and concern, unconscious preoccupation with everything surrounding the two of them.

And Toby! That telling fury! It was as obvious as Elban had ever seen it. And yet the last letter he had received from Pandora had said the two were only just starting to get along. She had hoped they would make better brothers than they had friends, hoped they could tolerate each other long enough to see the good that both possessed. From what Elban saw, they saw far too much good in each other and more than that besides!

Which left him facing a dilemma. How was he supposed to sign adoption papers if he thought they were in love with each other? Not that he considered it had grown to something as strong as love. Caring, yes. Possibly it might even end with just an attraction and that caring. They would remember it as something that had almost been the best thing. There was no means by which they could certainly make a life together. But Elban always considered that such things were worth trying. Toby was only alive because Jareth had loved Sarah. And whatever anyone else said, they were entitled as individuals to live their lives as they wanted. It didn't matter if Toby was Sarah's half-brother! Or whether Jareth had seduced the girl! Elban knew for a fact that he hadn't. He'd been slapped before he got close enough and had never tried again.

'_If she wants me, she has to call. She will not listen until she is ready. I do not want her to be with me until she is ready. I can wait. She deserves the best and she shall have it.'_

She had died.

Now Elban didn't consider that Toby would kill himself over love. The man wasn't like that. He didn't want love to change his life or his world. He wanted love to make things better, to fit into everything else. Jareth was not the obvious choice but it might work. If Toby didn't mind the constant changing and constant scheming, that went without saying. The mortal would have to shut his eyes and jump in with both feet, trusting the fae to look for the both of them. But then again, Toby was the stable force that Jareth seemed to need. Not as strong as Elban would have liked, but he would grow stronger as he grew used to the hold he had on his lover.

And they _were_ lovers. There was no doubt of that. Elban knew how Jareth looked at his bedmates, and he knew how Jareth looked at his lovers. Toby was a lover and the two shared… something.

Elban had four days in which to meddle inquisitively in their business before this adoption put a permanent end to it.

Jareth wasn't the only one capable of scheming.


	61. Could Be

They did have dinner that night. Beran was quite happy to let his mate leave his sight. Rather, he was not happy, but he was prepared to trust that Elban would not suddenly fall victim to Jareth's many charms. Besides which, Beran found himself a ready companion in one Braan, King Gildred's most trusted friend and adviser. The two sat down and had a long conversation about the various methods of animal husbandry.

Jervohl and Gildred were occupied far too much with each other, much to Pandora's great disgust. They didn't coo, far from it! They argued every step of the way. It was tiring to sit beside them and try to see the difference between a real argument and the general flow of harsh words. They took it as a matter of course. And Pandora supposed that they were happy enough to live in such a way, but it seemed quite ridiculous to her. She gave up any hope of a civilized conversation with them and settled for drawing Dervina into an animated discussion.

Toby was not in attendance. He had elected to spend some time with the goblins, all of who were holding an impromptu gambling den in the backyard for the evening. There were caterpillar races and cockfights. People came up from the City to look in and bet. In less time than it took for a small group to decide that they would have a small festival to celebrate their victory over the rogue assassins, others had set up food stalls and wine encampments. More had taken it upon themselves to ensure that there were lanterns enough to see by. In the middle of the yard was a huge bonfire, perfect for sitting beside, perfect for entertainers.

Toby remembered the goblins in the Lady's Palace occasionally doing such things for birthdays or to celebrate a good harvest or the opening of a new store. Only, in the Lady's palace, it had been on such a small scale. The City itself was large enough to hold over five hundred people. The elves were petitioned for musicians and dancers, the sprites for jugglers and acrobats. Centaurs offered to read palms or tell the future from the moon or the bonfire flames. The fire sprites played tricks and told jokes, singing their bawdy songs to make people laugh.

It was wonderful.

Toby joined in as much as he wanted, but elected to sit a little way away and watch. He would be one of them soon, he told himself, and he would be a fae. Too tall, perhaps, and even the magic would not really refine him. He looked down at his hands and grimaced at them. Too broad and too thick. Not elegant. Nothing at all like the hands of a high class fae family. But that was what he would be in a year or so. He would be fae. And he wouldn't look very different from the way he already did. The magic did not work like that.

But he would be fae.

He watched them all, laughing as they did and enjoying it as they did. He couldn't imagine being in another place. He shouted with the crowd when the costumed sprites jumped out from the far, dark corner of the yard and re enacted the battle in the Castle. The crowd clapped and shouted and crowed for more.

From nowhere, came a thunderclap from the sky that made the children shriek and jump up and down as they pointed to the sky. Fireworks rained down. Even the dancers stopped as the shower of green and gold sparks cascaded like stars from the sky. The elvish musicians, ever professional, played on, one eye on the fireworks as they watched as eagerly as the rest.

Toby watched the fireworks too, but hisgaze automatically left the sky to seek out the window where a dark shape stood. He caught Jareth's eye and gave a mocking bow, laughing as more crystals were hurled out into the sky. The shadow vanished when the last crystal released its last flair of colour and excitement into the night sky.

Toby didn't have long to wait. Jareth joined him less than an hour later, coming to a quiet stop beside him so they could watch the festivities together. "An enchanting people," the Goblin King commented, "Full of life and predictably hopeful. Chaos can do that to you."

"Where is Elban?"

"The others are on their way. Here they are." He looked over his shoulder and jerked his chin at the sudden shout from Braan.

Those of the Underground looked up, startled and shocked when the sombre-dressed Outlanders suddenly leapt into the flame-lit area and began a graceful dance. Sleek limbs and subtle movements, complex footwork belied by delicate motions of the arms and head. Dervina nad Jervohl were as much a part of the dance as their male counterparts, though they wore the dresses common to the females of the Underground.

The music never once faltered and after that first shock, the audience took it in good part and demanded more. Some even stood to try joining in. Gildred kindly darted into the crowd and emerged with the hand of a blushing young fae, drawing the younger boy close and teaching him the movements with gentle hands and patient explanation. The youth looked as though he couldn't decide whether he wanted to die of embarrassment or whoop in pleasure. He laughed in compromise, flushed and sparkling and the picture of innocence.

Jareth smothered a smile. Gildred was at his diplomatic best, it seemed, worming his way into the affections of the Goblin King's people. Jareth didn't dance. He preferred to stay where he was. Toby didn't dance either and Jareth found it amusing to watch the way the mortal whole-heartedly threw himself into the spirit of the evening.

But he could not stay hidden in the shadows for long. Most would not dare approach him, but Ezreeka came to him with flowers in her hair and the slender grace of her gown clinging to her supple body. And she blushed prettily as she asked him if he would sing for them.

Jareth shook his head and smiled. He sang, but not in public anymore. Not since Sarah.

"Please," she asked earnestly, "Your people would be most honoured." And then she looked wicked. "Lord Gildred has danced for us, Your Majesty. Surely we can show that our monarch has an equal talent, if not a better one?"

Toby chuckled beside him as Jareth raised a stern brow. "An _equal_ talent?" he echoed.

She had the grace to smile and duck her head in embarrassment.

The Goblin King sighed and held out his hand. "Alright then. Where am I to go?"

She took him by the hand, asked Toby to excuse them both and pulled Jareth after her into the crowd. Automatically the crowd parted for him and the dancers left the performance space before the bonfire. Jareth was led there and Ezreeka respectfully melted away. Toby could not hear what was said, but there was a general cacophony of good humour. It seemed Jareth had asked what he was to sing.

Inevitably, someone, emboldened by the fire and drunk on the exhilaration and gaiety, shouted loud enough to be heard over the crowd- "The Song of the Promise."

From the way Jareth faltered, Toby straightened and made to go to him. But the next second, that panic that shifted to soft nostalgia. And the light blond head dipped in acquiescence. The musicians began to play a gentle tune, fingers moving carefully over their instruments.

Jareth called to someone and laughingly the crowd pushed Ezreeka forward again. The elf was blushing but she curtseyed and took his hand as he drew her into a slow dance with him. The tenor voice, still so ragged at the edges and so rich, began a litany of promises, each one as powerful as the next.

Toby vaguely recognized the song. It sounded familiar; at least the tune did. The sudden image of a music box with a doll in it that went around and around.

"S'okay," an old lady said just in front of him, "Romantic nonsense, I calls it."

"Aw, can't be saying the King is ever so romantic, _reelly_," her companion wheezed, "Ain't never sung that song for anyone but Her."

Sarah. Blue eyes flicked up and Jareth was still singing, twirling with a hand firmly on Ezreeka's waist as he led her around the circle of light. Other lovers had joined them, all dancing in their own private haze of romance. The rest of the crowd only watched,delighted.

When the song ended, Toby considered it had ended too soon. But then Jareth let go of Ezreeka and bowed gallantly to her before graciously accepting the applause of the crowd.

Without warning, Braan highjacked a flute from the elvish musicians and blew a long, clear note. The entire assembly looked startled and even the two old females providing Toby with a running commentary were stunned into silence.

Braan blew the note once more and everyone else cleared the space around Jareth as Gildred stepped forward. Shoulders straight, arms clasped lightly behind his back and a challenge on his face that Toby could make out from where he stood at the back. Jareth seemed to find it all very funny, but he took off the long jacket he wore and stood only in shirtsleeves. He mimicked Gildred's stance, his gloved hands clasped lightly behind his back and tossed his head up in answer.

The one note became two and Dervina showed the elves the right beat on the tambourine she had taken from them. Bells and flutes and the high jangle of noise.

The two monarchs circled each other, slowly at first and then faster and faster. Both watchful, both never missing a beat.

Toby had never seen this dance before. It was a very old one, taught only to certain classes of society. It was a dance taught by the highest warriors, meant to prove the skills of balance and poise. It was an artform in itself, this dance, usually performed as a challenge between two. Sometimes the challengers were individuals- such as with Jareth and Gildred- other times it was performed by two groups.

They moved faster, twisting and writhing in impossible movements. Gildred was the better dancer but Jareth matched him pace for pace. The longer it continued, the faster the music wove. Everyone watched in fascination and the gamblers began to bet on whom would misstep first. The music crested, all the instruments sweeping into one last, long, loud note of infinite tension. And crashed back down into the finish.

The two males stopped and stood, hands grasping the other too tight, out of breath and leaning close for support. Jervohl held her breath, but Jareth let go and waved weakly at Gildred.

"You certainly have the better of me," the Goblin King allowed, "In this at least."

"Ha!" Gildred crowed, not as badly winded as his opponent, "I shall remember that you said that."

Jareth nodded and made his way back through the crowd. Someone passed him a bottle of wine and he accepted it with thanks before finally making his way to Toby's side. "Come with me," he said quietly, laying a hand on the broad arm.

Toby followed him back to the Castle. Jareth took him right up, strolling leisurely up staircases until he reached a small wooden door at the very top. He opened it and led them both out to the parapets, gesturing to his ward to follow. In the very middle he stopped and put the bottle of wine out of the way, holding out his hands. "Come dance with me," he said quietly.

Toby raised an eyebrow. "I? Dance with you?" He eyed the fae strangely, wondering why Jareth would even ask him such a thing.

The Goblin King dropped his hands but continued to stand- silent, waiting.

Toby wasn't really in the mood to dance. He never did, usually. A few times, perhaps, for Luka, but never usually. And yet he imagined how Jareth felt now, having sung that song in public that he had once sung so openly for Sarah, promising her every delicate fascination he could conjure up with his power, dancing with an elf that could have been Sarah's match for complexion and manner. And just like that surreal night when Jareth had come to his room and asked to be made whole again, Toby could not leave him in that pain.

He went to him, then, walking around him to stand behind, placing a hand on his waist and another on his shoulder. Jareth leaned back, sighing, eyes closed even Toby couldn't see them. They could still hear the music from below. The elves were playing another song for lovers, most of the excitement having dissipated like the bonfire to glowing embers instead of flames. The children had been taken home to sleep. The older people either slept where they sat or dreamt aloud of their own times of youth. And youth fell in love and lust, quietly taking companionship for a lifetime or just a moment where it was offered. Couples already established relived the pleasure of each other.

No one could see the Goblin King or his ward as they swayed almost imperceptibly on the parapets of the Castle. And Toby appreciated that Jareth had kept his promise to be discreet about their closeness. In return he tried to give his lover all the comfort that Jareth seemed to need, whispered soft things in a pale ear that he wouldn't remember come the next day. When the song ended, they stopped.

Jareth sighed and opened his eyes. "I suppose you think me an old fool," he remarked suddenly, his voice stronger than his defeated stature allowed him to seem.

Toby put an arm around the hard chest and pulled Jareth closer. "No. We all have things we look back on with pain."

"Yes, but I should have known better," Jareth complained bitterly, "Than to fall headfirst in love with a little girl. But I swear to you I would never have touched her, not even if she had wanted it from me. I would have stopped it."

"Does it matter? Let it go."

"I have. I just cannot believe I was so stupid."

"I will thank you not to insult my sister by calling it stupid to love her," Toby said acerbically.

A laugh- finally. Jareth chuckled and turned. "How did you know I like being held from behind?" he asked, winding his arms around Toby's neck, "Or did you just take a chance?"

"I wondered," Toby admitted, smiling down and tangling thick fingers in rough blond hair, "When Gildred ran his fingers over your back you mimed slashing him across the face. You only do that when you get touched on a vulnerable spot."

Jareth was impressed. Toby was certainly getting better if he had noticed that. And then he remembered that Toby was probably referring to the scratches on Luka's cheek and wondered if he should explain that. But it was not his business to explain his actions, and really, Jareth hated having to explain himself. If Toby wanted to know, he could ask. Jareth always reserved the right not to answer.

"The Kingdom is safe tonight," he said instead, coming back from one of those frequent mental trips abroad. He disengaged himself and went to get the bottle of wine. Drinking straight from the mouth and then passing the bottle over. "Are you coming to my bed tonight?"

Toby gave the bottle back and shrugged. "I have no idea. Do you want me to?"

Jareth considered that. "Well, we have both been tired for the passed two nights. But I suppose I could stay awake long enough." He smirked and drank again. "Here."

"Oh, I would not want you to miss any of your beauty sleep," Toby replied in kind, "You look like you could do with a lot more that you're getting."

The Goblin King laughed out loud and went to the parapet, leaning on the wall as he looked down on the remainder of the night's festivities. "I take exception to that," he murmured. He waited till Toby joined him before silently demanding his wine back.

"I was only joking."

"Why? I am hardly beautiful." The snort from his right made Jareth twitch in surprise. "Attractive, perhaps. But not beautiful. My mother is beautiful, my sister… Gildred and Elban. Even Dieter was beautiful. He had the most perfect features- a strong jaw, a straight nose, an elegant mouth and fine eyes, a wide forehead. Why he wasted himself on that sea snake I will never understand."

"It was his choice."

"I suppose. It was an idiotic choice, however."

Toby stole the bottle and shook it with a frown. There was less than half left. "You drink too much," he accused.

Jareth groaned and dropped his head down to the stone, bending fluidly at the waist. "I have a job that requires me to be constantly monitoring the ebb and flow of life and time," he ground out, "I exist in a high state of physical excitement and sensual awareness. I like alcohol because it dulls the world for a little while. I like sex because I get aroused easily. Is that enough information?"

"I was only remarking on fact. Stop twisting everything I say into an accusation."

"Everything you say _is_ an accusation," Jareth snapped, "You have not stopped questioning me since we met!"

"Well, why not? Is there a reason why no one should ask you why you are the way you are?"

"I am as I am. Is that hard to believe? That someone can just act as they wish to act?"

"No." Toby offered the wine back as a peace offering, "I cannot understand a word but I trust you to know what you're doing. That does not mean that I will stop asking you to do the right thing. I cannot. It is as much a part of me as your unpredictability is a part of you. I am a _little_ predictable like that."

Jareth lifted his head and looked at the bottle. He eyed it, noting the level of liquid still left in it. He finished it in a long swallow and set it down on the stone beside his boots. "Come to my room tonight," he said decisively, walking away.

Toby stayed where he was for a little while longer. It was a lot easier to tolerate Jareth now that he didn't really set up expectations for him. It was a hard lesson, but Jareth just could not be caged in any way. The only way to keep him- both metaphorically and literally- would be by letting him decide to stay or not, just as he liked. Give him the facts and let him decide.

Of course, even Jareth had certain things that he always responded to. Sex and alcohol were two things he never turned down. He liked honesty. He liked secrets. He liked fun. He needed someone to remind him of what he neglected to remember and even his method of extracting gossip was fallible. He responded to the memory of Sarah; Toby suspected he always would. It was good to know these things. They would be brothers soon, no matter how strange that sounded. It sounded even stranger given that Toby would go to Jareth's bedchamber when he finally left the parapet and would make love to him.

But that was days later. He knew exactly what Jareth would say to him if he brought it up as a worrying issue- "That is then. This is now. What do you feel now?"

And right at the moment, he felt like undressing the fae and watching him writhe on his back as Toby plied his mouth and tongue as skilfully as he could. If Jareth succumbed quickly enough, Toby even considered taking him. It was an appealing thought. The Goblin King was always free with his body. He openly enjoyed being on the receiving end and gave back from even that submissive position as much as he received.

Toby looked at the innocent bottle not two feet away and picked it up. He could hand it to a goblin on his way down.


	62. Must Be

Author's Note: 'Manna' is an affectionate term. It means 'precious beyond measure'.

--------------------------------------------------

The problem with the Labyrinth was that nothing was certain. _No one thing_! And true to form, a certain echoing whisper slipped through the Castle just as Toby got halfway down the Goblin King's neck.

Jareth groaned and fell back to the bed, hands falling away from the back of the mortal's head in defeat.

Toby sighed and sat up, looking to the window. "Should I wait up for you?" he asked.

Jareth shrugged as he got out of bed. "That depends on how annoying this one is," he muttered, "Bloody humans! Always bloody interrupting."

Toby kindly didn't get insulted. "Then I should go back to my room. Will you be alright?"

"Yes." Jareth was definitely sulking. The wine was sloshing pliantly in his blood and he had been thinking of something nice and slow and very sweet- just to see how Toby looked while he did it- and now he was stuck with a challenger.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"No need to shout."

"I was not shouting," Jareth said slowly, "I was only raising my voice."

He fumbled hurriedly through his wardrobe, yanking out a black cape. The usual- sparkling, brash and a little peculiar. He generally used many variations of the same outfit for the first time. Just so he could cow the wisher into accepting their new fate. It worked most of the time. But sometimes… well, Sarah had not fallen for it, and Sarah might have been the love of his life but she was nothing special in the human world. He fixed it on and tried to settle the folds properly while dragging a brush through his hair with his left hand.

Toby pulled on his shirt and breeches and gathered up the rest of his belongings. "I shall see you in the morning," he said awkwardly.

"With luck," Jareth added, "Only with luck." He strode to the door, patting Toby's shoulder absently on the way. "Sleep well."

Toby raised an eyebrow. But Jareth was gone. One foot out of the door and he had turned shape and flown out into the corridor. Toby often wondered why most wishes were made at night. He supposed humans got sleepy and less able to handle stressful situations. So they wished them away in spite. Most didn't mean it, but that was the way things went.

He slipped out, watchful in case someone else chose the moment to wander down the hallway. His room was still only three doors down, and so he was safely inside before the footsteps even began to ascend the stairs. He was already changed and in bed when Gildred walked his fiancée to her room.

"Will you be alright?" he asked anxiously.

"I am only going to sleep," she laughed softly, "Hardly a dangerous experience."

"Luka," he said tellingly, "Is still on the loose. I thought he was a spoilt little fae whose most serious thought was whether his clothing was right for the dance he was attending! How is it that he can escape Jareth, myself and my tracker?"

Jervohl didn't answer.

Gildred noticed because he pulled away from those moody thoughts and tossed another worried look at her profile. "I worry for you," he murmured, tightening his hold on her fingers.

"Madigh is dead, Gildred. Unless you think I am not able to…"

"I never said that. But you are not invincible. None of us are. Any good killer should be able to make his way into your room without waking you."

"And if I am as good as you have trained me to be, I should be awake before he has even opened my door," Jervohl retorted.

The Outlands King looked thoughtful for a moment, and then a slight smile formed on his face. "I could always stay with you," he offered wickedly, "We can keep watch together." Fingers slipped from her hand up her arm.

Jervohl shivered but shook her head, grinning to herself at the incongruity of it all. A month ago she would never have thought he could sound so horribly leering. What was she saying? A month ago she would have said yes on principle, just because she wouldn't have been able to believe such a thing was happening. And now she could. Because they were betrothed, and Gildred would leave in a week to return to his lands and sort out this mess with Madigh and an attempted murder. She would follow a year later after a long-suffering period spent doing all the things that a yearlong engagement stipulated. Her clothing would have to be gone through and settled as befitted the King's consort. She would have to learn how to be his companion and helpmeet, how to provide him with the support he needed. Moreover, she would spend the time trying to decide if this marriage was really what she wanted.

"Very well, then. Here we are." He waited patiently at the door and leaned against the wall beside her, watching her as she opened the door and lingered in the open doorway. "We can always go for a walk," he suggested.

"I am tired. So are you. Go to bed!" She leaned forward quickly and kissed him on the cheek. For all the amusement it afforded her, she still was not used to being so intimate with him. They never had been before. She wondered if she would ever be used to it. Seeing him so calm and relaxed.

"Goodnight, manna."

"Goodnight, My Lord."

Gildred sighed and let his red head fall back to the wall behind it. She always called him by that title. He had the feeling that he should put a stop to that; it sounded as though she approached him in fear. It sounded as though she saw herself on a level lower than his. She was, that was true, simply because she would never hold the same status even when she became his mate. And truly, he liked hearing his title on her lips. To him it sounded sweet, full of promise and caring. It was just the way she said it. But Braan had been very stern about getting her to call him by name.

Gildred trusted Braan. Braan had been his right hand since Gildred had taken the throne. A mere footsoldier, Braan had come from an old race of hired murderers, those that traded in death for money. Braan had taught him, helped craft the vision they both shared. Those skills, combined with the fae's powerstone were more than enough to give them the victories they dreamt of.

But it wasn't the victories that were hard, it was the sustained rule. Making a land filled with chaos elements submit to order. A settlement may be conquered plenty of times, but to make it truly a conquered land was to bring the people to heel. Gildred had been ruthless, and bloody-minded and yes, he had not been very opposed to the rush that power gave him. Holding people's lives in his hands was something he enjoyed. Not many could look back on a hundred years filled with blood and glory and adventure. Gildred could, and he was content with it. Now he wanted to settle down, to find someone he loved, and to perhaps raise a family.

Jervohl was the treasure he had almost killed.

Gildred still smiled about that. The sister of the Goblin King, fighting under an assumed name? Thank one of his newest soldiers that remembered the female from before his exile! Gildred had considered just asking for money or more land from Jareth. And then thought better of it. Jervohl would know the weaknesses of the Goblin Kingdom. Her brother was king and her former lover was a politician with connections. He had used her, grown interested, and fallen. As simple as all that.

He didn't regret it for a moment.

And to top off a good visit to the Castle at the Centre of the Labyrinth, Braan was making arrangements to breed Hastur out. The koern was growing older. He was far from his old age, but conflict would never fully leave the Outlands and Gildred did not want to think about how many times his ferociously loyal mount had saved his life. He would lose Hastur one day. The sensible thing was to guard against that, and to make sure Gildred had another mount to take his place when the time came. That little forest sprite's mate, the dwarf, bred koerns as a business. His herd was one of the best in the land, even if it was still a small one. Surely there was a good female to carry a cub to term?

Gildred thought about that. She would have to be strong, he thought wryly, Hastur was enormous! Crude though the joke seemed, he might just hurt her during the coupling. Stud koerns were always rough during mating, often unsheathing their claws to get a better grip on the female they mounted. Watching koerns mate was not a pretty sight. Gildred didn't want to be held responsible for his mount killing an expensive koern.

Beran did not want that either. He was sitting in a reading room downstairs, just off the throne room, talking business with his lover.

"It would be good for business," he agreed, "And very profitable. Braan says that Gildred will pay for the two months insemination period and the nine months gestation. What do you think?"

"Well, that depends on the price you asked," Elban said bluntly, "Have you seen Hastur? He looks like a monster. I would not dare go near him, nor would I feel safe leaving him with the workers. He might eat them."

"Not safe, is he?" Braan stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It does seem a shame to say no."

Elban narrowed his eyes. "You just like experimenting with what kind of cub such a beast will sire," he accused, "This is not even about business, is it?"

Beran had the grace to look sheepish. "Not really. But I take it I should say no. Hmmm. The size is not important, you know. Female koerns are much more savage in mating season than a male can ever get, no matter how wild the male or how small the female. I think Celeste might match him for size, however, if Gildred likes to be sure to get a large cub. She is not big, but her sire was. The family traits might be enough. However, Celeste has never been mated before. I have no idea if she will take. She is elegant, perfectly beautiful. Beauty is always something people want in their cubs. What do you think?"

Elban was glowering moodily at him. "I think you should say _no_," he said pointedly, "The strain on our stables alone is not worth it."

"Do you really think so?" Beran looked so woebegone.

Elban melted just a little. "It is all too uncertain. Besides, you have not even seen Hastur. We barely make enough to keep the herd in feed, Beran. If the estate was not self-sufficient, we would be unable to make the workers even work for their board and keep. Celeste is a prize brood female. We cannot afford to lose her to injury."

"Yes, but what if she takes?" Beran's eyes began to sparkle with excitement. "Imagine the cub! From everything Braan has said, Hastur is a truly magnificent specimen. One of the magna lines. You know how rare they are? There are barely ten in the breeding business. And their line is so hard to keep that out of ten of their cubs, just one taking the same traits will be more than lucky. Celeste already has magna blood in her. Hastur is purebred from what I hear. Imagine the outcome!"

"I can. I can see Celeste with long wounds on her flanks from where Hastur gripped at her. And even if she does take, she will surely lose the cub from that."

"Not all koerns unsheath their claws when they mate."

"I read, Beran. The magnas do when in the wild. The reason they are such a small type is because most of their females are too weak from the coupling to carry to term! Hastur was caught in the wild and he will certainly unsheath his claws. Celeste is only a descendant; how will she fight back?"

"I still think it will work," Beran said mulishly.

Elban sighed and put down the papers he had been editing. "I am only managing the side of your business that has numbers. You deal with breeding and care-taking. I look after the amount we spend and I tell you when we get an offer to sell or buy. If you want Hastur for stud, discuss it with Braan and Gildred. I know next to nothing to give you an opinion."

"Oh, now, come, my lovely! I did not mean to upset you." Braan really did live in fear of that. Elban had already run away once; who knew but that he would do it again? And this time, since they were already in the Castle, Beran would not know where to go to get him back.

"I am not upset!" Elban visibly controlled his outrage. Beran always would treat him like a porcelain statue sitting on a crooked table, even if he were less frantic about the possible harm of Elban leaving the safety of his bed and his sight. "Never mind. Are you coming up to bed?"

"In a minute. What are those?" A stubby finger stabbed in the direction of the papers the forest sprite had put down. "The adoption papers?"

"Yes. They will be _brothers_! Can you believe it? Such nonsense!"

"Why not? They get along well enough if they can stay out of each other's way."

Elban pitied his lover, he really did. Beran was the sweetest, most devoted animal rearer in the Underground. Possibly in the entire magical dimension. But if there was one thing he didn't really understand, it was Jareth. Not that Elban was an expert but he liked to think that there were certain experiences that afforded him a more thorough preparation. "I see," he remarked offhand, "You think they stay out of each other's way, do you? Even when Toby has not left his side for all these days?"

Beran's jaw dropped, as did the realization.

"A-ha! Now you get it." Elban triumphantly smacked the table. "I knew you would see it! Is it not obvious? Well, once you know of it?"

"Ye-ees," Beran said cautiously. He scratched his head and frowned in thought. "But they seem so disconnected from each other."

"They never leave each other's side. They constantly walk into rooms and look straight at the other before even greeting everyone else. They nod at whatever the other says in understanding, even if they are about to disagree. And they take great pains to _seem_ disconnected!"

"But why?" Beran asked plaintively.

"Who knows? They are both mad. And they are both male. They probably want to protect their egos by pretending they feel nothing that they do feel." Elban had no time for people who kept things private just because they thought they knew what was going on. He might have done it himself a few times- and yes, alright, than was more than ten times- but it only meant that he could speak from experience. No hypocrisy at all, thank you very much!

Beran thought about it some more. The clock struck thirteen and the magic in the Castle clearly said that someone very powerful- Jareth probably- was at work. In fact, now that he thought about it, he could vaguely remember a wish being heard from Aboveground. Another challenger? Possibly. They usually turned up at night.

"This is why I like koerns," Beran commented suddenly, "They are absolutely open. They mate during the mating season and their manes go grey when they are ill or unhappy. Nothing whatsoever with issues with humans or what patch of grass reminds them of which lover. They just eat and sleep and run around. Simple. Everyone should be a koern!"

Elban stifled a giggle. "May I remind you," he said severely, "That I take great exception to being a dumb beast with nothing to do but eat and sleep? It is singularly boring."

"Yes, well, your best friend there would be a lot easier to understand if he only mated when he needed to and only spent his time eating and sleeping. Of course," Braan was forced to add, "He usually does just that in any case. But only because he has an agenda, damn it! No koern has an agenda!"

"No koern is bisexual either," Elban pointed out thoughtfully, "This is strange. I would never have thought he would finally end with another male. He likes his females too much. Though I suppose he does not have to give them up…"

They looked at each other.

"Toby will _make_ him give them up," Beran agreed, "Come along. We should go to bed. We have to see Hastur in the morning."

Elban nodded and went with him, but halfway up the stairs he stopped and hesitated. The sound of raised voices was coming from the throne room. It sounded like arguing. The heated smack of flesh on flesh eventually made his mind up. "I think I will see if Jareth needs some help managing the new Wished-away."

Beran merely grunted and continued on up the staircase.

Elban didn't get far. Jareth came storming out less than a moment later, a furious gleam in his eyes as he shook the pain from his hand. He said something rude under his breath when he saw the forest sprite and deliberately went around him, not stopping to chat before vanishing somewhere.

Elban wasn't too bothered. It was a good thing if Jareth didn't stop to tell him what had happened. He only did that when he felt guilty or in need of reassurance. Clearly he needed neither. Elban was all for the Goblin King standing on his own two feet. It could get messy being leaned on for support. So he cautiously went to the Throne Room and went in.

A young man was sitting there, glaring up at the ceiling as he lay on his back on the sunken pit in the middle of the room. Elban was barely two steps into the room when another person entered behind him. He turned, fully expecting his friend to have returned. But it was only Crase. The fae looked surprised to see him there but didn't take the time to question his presence. He went to the man staring at the two of them and said something quiet to him.

Now that the young man was sitting up, Elban could see a lovely purple bruise on the man's cheek. Made, probably, by a fist hitting his face.

"Will you come with me, Mr, Jenkins? His Majesty has ordered a room to be readied for you. He desires you to get some rest."

"I'll stay right here, thanks, until Donnie comes and gets me."

"Who is Donnie?" Elban asked interestedly.

"My boyfriend," Mr. Jenkins huffed, "And he won't be happy to see how you guys treat me."

Elban shared a mutual look of unimpressed credulity with Crase. The fae straightened up and looked as if he would much rather have been back in bed than standing there running errands for a furious Goblin King.

"Mr. Jenkins," Elban began.

"Carl," Mr. Jenkins insisted impatiently, "Call me Carl. Mr. Jenkins sounds like a lawyer. And I am not a lawyer."

"Oh. Alright. Carl," Elban corrected himself, "Could you possibly find it in yourself to tell me why His Majesty hit you?"

"Hit me?" Carl looked genuinely surprised. "That guy with the tight pants and the hair? He never hit me. The guys that were outside the club hit me. Donnie was kicking their asses when one of them said the darnedest thing. And then what's his name- the guy with the tight pants…"

"He is the King of the Underground," Crase broke in quickly, "I suggest you call him His Majesty like the rest of us. Your version is too long."

"Yeah, well, I'm American. I don't believe in Kings."

Elban was inclined to think that the man was also just a little mad. Jareth didn't look as if he would find it very amusing in his present loss of temper. He looked at Crase and backed slowly to the door. "Well, I suppose I am no longer needed."

"Oh, hey," Carl called after him, "If you still want to know, that guy didn't hit me."

"Then what did?"

"Um, the guy- His Majesty- he brought one of those assholes with him. The guy that wished me away or whatever, he tried to punch him too but His Majesty just caught his fist in his hand and said something really loudly. I don't know what it was; it was in another language."

Crase bit his lip and signalled to Elban to come closer. Dropping his voice, he spoke in fae for good measure. "This is the third time that man has wished someone else away. Donnie, whoever the man is, will not run the Labyrinth. The other one will. Except he elected to take the wishes instead, just as before."

"Jareth cannot force anyone to run the Labyrinth," Elban objected.

"It seems there is a by-rule that states that he may do so, if he believes that the victim was wished away just so the challenger could benefit from the act of exchange." Crase was not very certain about that. From what he remembered, there was no such rule. But if there were not, it seemed Jareth was about to make it. Which meant the Council would be called again because it would have to be voted upon, as all laws were. "It seems Jareth was fed up with being called upon to take away those that this person wishes away. It seems he targets certain people."

"Look, could you guys talk English? I'm getting really confused here." Carl was getting more than confused, he was beginning to panic. Getting out of a fight was great as far as he was concerned. Those assholes had been hanging around the club and picking on certain couples for weeks now. People were beginning to stay away because they didn't want trouble. But Donnie had taken it too hard, had got in a fight, and now Carl didn't know where the hell he was or why he was standing in a stone room at dead of night with two strange people talking in another language in front of him.

"Sorry," Crase apologized. "Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Crase. I am a fae, one of those you might call a fairy in your world. This is Elban. He is a forest sprite. We usually just call each other by name. But if you would prefer a more formal title, simply affix the term Mister to our names."

Carl blinked in disbelief. "Okay. Um, Crase, right? And Elban?" The two of them nodded. "Where the hell am I?"

"Ah." They looked at each other. Elban sighed and said, "I wish the Goblin King were here right now." He waited for a minute and nothing happened. "He will be here shortly. How do I explain in the meantime? You are in a Kingdom called the Underground. It is on a separate dimension to Earth, but connected in certain ways. I think you will find that the other man that His Majesty brought here has wished you away. Tell me, was this other man a friend?"

Carl looked revolted and spat on the floor to emphasize his disgust. "Not a chance! I have no time for bigots. Considering he was trying to kick my stomach through my spine, I'd say he didn't like me too."

Oh. So that was where the man's power over Carl came from. Elban nodded and listened. "His Majesty is almost here. He can answer your questions."

Crase pondered whether he would be given one of those deadly glares for not having done as Jareth had asked. But then Elban was to blame and the Goblin King did not really ever take his best friend to task for anything.

Jareth did turn up, but only for a few minutes. He went to the man, handed him a crystal and murmured something in his ear. Carl looked down at the crystal, his eyes widened and then he sat down very suddenly on the floor. He began to say something under his breath before he buried his head in his arms and started rocking back and forth. Jareth winced but didn't try to stop him.

"I told him that the challenger is running the Labyrinth for him, but that he should resign himself to the fact that he will never return to Earth," Jareth called in fae, "Yava should have that bedroom ready. Take him there. Put him to bed and try to get him to sleep."

Crase nodded and tucked a gentle hand under the bony elbow, tugging until Carl got the message and stood up. Looking as confused as a child, the man followed the fae out of the throne room without question. Jareth was obviously not happy about the situation. He sat down in the throne and looked at Elban as if the forest sprite should have the answers to questions he hadn't yet asked.

"You could have let him hope," Elban proposed, "It seems unkind to just tell him before he even knows what is going on." Secretly, the sprite wondered why Carl had looked disbelieving when he tried to explain where he was, but had absolutely trusted that what the Goblin King told him was the truth. "And why give him a crystal to see what he has left behind?"

"I gave him the crystal so he could take a last look at his boyfriend," Jareth spat, "The man practically hammered the challenger over the head with a pipe when I was trying to get them away, so I would think the two were close." A strange look flit across his face. "They lived together, it seemed. Donnie will notice when his lover does not go home."

Elban winced too sympathetically. Humans were very cruel, it seemed. And if Crase was right, this man had done it deliberately, hoping to make both men hurt and suffer. But why? Elban couldn't see the reason. Carl was brash, perhaps, but he did not seem the type to needle someone until they wanted him hurt. And not killed either, but hurt so much more because he had to live with it. "So you gave him the crystal for what purpose?" He was pushing his luck by asking questions, but sometimes Jareth didn't notice and just answered them honestly.

"If I took you from Beran, would you not prefer to get one last glimpse of your lover even if you could not talk to him?"

"Probably." Elban thought it made sense. Cruel sense, but sense of some sort. "Why did he do it? The challenger, I mean."

The Goblin King didn't answer right away. Surprisingly enough, he flushed in anger first and looked out the window as if about to go back out and throttle the challenger himself. But then he lapsed from that stiff posture and leaned back, fixing a coldly casual eye on his best friend. "He is one of those famously discriminating people of the Aboveground. Everyone down here has heard of them- racists, sexists, religious fanatics… this one is homophobic."

"He is allergic to something?"

"No. He despises homosexuals. He discriminates against them. This is the third time he has used me to- what did he call it- rid the world of another faggot." The words were hissed so sharply they could slice air. Those gloved hands were clenched tight enough on the curved seat to be noticeable. "He picks a couple and abuses them. Makes their lives hell. Most of them he just terrorizes until they break up or have to move to get away from him. Others, like Carl, he wishes away when they fight back."

Elban felt sick. The Underground had no such distinctions. True, people had been shocked about his decision to take a dwarf as his mate, but only because Beran was not known at all and Elban was, through association with the Goblin King, one of the most eligible males in good society. That, and they were of two different races. And of course because it had happened no fast. And because dwarfish marriages always had someone to take the feminine role and Elban had done it. But to discriminate because a male liked other males? It was sick, and it was disturbing.

It made him wonder whether Gildred was not right about cutting away the connections between the two dimensions. What trouble would human bigotry cause in the freely open culture of the Underground? He didn't like to think of it.

"Not all humans are idiots," Jareth soothed, putting a hand on Elban's shoulder and pushing him into the throne to sit, "You have met so many; have they ever made you feel less of a person because of your relationship with Beran?"

"No."

Jareth nodded and left him there as he went to the window. Slipping out mentally to check in on his challenger and hating the very sight of him. Twice was annoying, but Jareth was not happy to be the garbage can where people dumped what they thought was garbage. How was it possible to hold so little value for human life? Never mind the bigotry, how could people wish anyone else away? Why did they abuse their power over each other so much?

The challenger was struggling up a hill. And Jareth smirked as he stroked the Labyrinth's ego, patted it and petted it and suggested certain things in its figurative ear. The Labyrinth might or might not respond. It did this time. Just as the human got halfway up the hill,the hillturned to glass and he slid all the way down again with a yell. Jareth watched him try three times. All three times, the man got halfway before it turned to slippery glass. All three times the man slid down. He was red in the face and livid with anger, his lips thin though they were mostly hidden by his beard.

Jareth nodded in satisfaction and left him for a little while. It had taken him a lot to even persuade the man to try. And only because he had used a little known loophole- the challenger could not get out of the Underground unless the Goblin King wished it. And this particular Goblin King would not let this particular challenger leave the Underground until he reached the Castle. Jareth was not about to let him get to the Castle at all… EVER!

He smirked to himself, aware that it was a cruel thing to take a man's life in such a slow and painstaking way. He knew it. But did he care? Not at all. It was not even anything to do with Carl and Donnie in particular, but merely the fact that he was tired of humans and tired of their hypocrisy. All the annoyance and hatred and disgust with human nature that the entire Underground felt, he gathered into himself and used against this challenger.

Carl would forget Donnie. He had no other choice. He was a young man and young men were remarkably resilient. He would find someone else and he would learn to make a life in the Underground, just as so many others had done in just the passed year alone. He turned around and Elban had left, slipping away quietly to sneak up to his bedroom and find reassurance with his lover. Jareth didn't have that luxury. Nor did he want to. He didn't see Toby as his lover; Toby wasn't. Not as far as he knew, at least. Not in that kind of way.

But just to be certain that Toby, for all his humanity, was still someone he wanted to know, he went up to the bedroom, walking because he needed time to think. He didn't knock on the door. He went right in. He shut the door behind him and went to sit on the bed next to the sleeping figure.

Toby was tangled up in his blankets just like a little boy, with the pillow formerly under his head now thrown haphazardly on the floor and the sheets twisted around his torso and his legs. Toes curled as if his feet were just a little cold. Without even thinking Jareth leaned down and pulled the blankets straighter, covering him completely. It was easy to forget that Toby was still over a hundred years younger than he was. Easier, of course, to forget that Toby was a grown adult and needed to be treated like one. Jareth was always slipping from one perception to the other, using the one most convenient for his needs.

But Toby was old enough and too young and perfectly adorable when he was asleep and snoring so loudly.

Jareth sighed softly and shook his head at himself. It was too obvious if anyone saw him sitting here and watching Toby sleep. Of course he liked him. He was attracted to him. But to take a chance on a maybe? He wasn't ready yet. He might never be. And if he ever did find himself willing to take that chance, Toby was going to be his brother in three days. Less, if one thought that they would sign the papers on the third morning, before the day was properly started.

Should he tell him?

To tell Toby or not to tell Toby. That was just one of the questions.

He stroked the grown out hair and made a note to tell Toby to get his hair cut. He looked better with short hair. It looked different. Jareth liked it. He wouldn't have to bother about Toby being discriminating. The mortal went out of his way to treat everyone the same. It annoyed his guardian, but it certainly was better than the bigotry.

Jareth left just as silently, shutting the door behind him as he went back to his own room, the cape slung over his arm and waiting to tossed into a corner and forgotten.


	63. Night

Author's Note:I have a surprise for all of you. This is the second last chapter! It is! Just one more chapter to go and this fiction will be over. I know it's been a long time, but I have to admit that I am a selfish person and as a writer, I enjoyed doing this. I just hope I didn't bore everyone else in the process.

Author's Note2: Forgive the long chapter, but I included a little pick-me-up at the end for everyone who has spent all this time hoping to see a little less dialogue and a lot more skin.

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It was all very well being told the story over breakfast by a heated forest sprite who hadn't slept because he'd been so badly effected by it all. And to hear Gildred and Braan say very pointedly that apart from present company- and Toby was pleased for the first time to hear that he wasn't classed as human- they had never met a mortal that had seemed worth knowing. They argued very well in point of fact, asking what humans had ever done for the Underground.

Pandora had very scathingly pointed out that without humans, there would be no progress in the Underground at all. "Have you ever met anyone in the Underground or in your own lands that spend time trying out new inventions?" she snapped, "Oh yes, you forge a new sword or you build a new cottage. And you use the same heavy-handed method of production that has been handed down to you since time began! Let us be honest, for all our magical abilities, we none of us have any imagination."

Gildred wasn't convinced. "I would say we have too much," he replied bluntly, "Since we can look ahead and see the damage that we cause by taking jobs away from those that need them, and for living our lives as though the only thing that matters is that we rest our bodies for an hour more than we already do."

Toby had stayed very silent throughout the conversation. Eventually they had just forgotten about him. Until he stood up and drew their attention by pointedly leaving the room. Then, and only then, did the Lady and Gildred look a little ashamed of themselves.

Jareth still asleep but Toby was not on his way to see him. Everyone was talking about the Goblin King's new acquisition. Any goblin could tell him where he was. Toby deliberately called Gibil up and asked to be taken there. The goblin twitched his long ears and took off eagerly down the corridor, chattering away about the latest news in the Goblin City and in the Castle. Toby listened with half an ear and thought about how awful it was for Carl.

Gibil pointed him to the right door and Toby knocked softly.

"Come in."

He went in very cautiously, wondering whether he was not acting without thought again. It was all very well for Jareth to tell him to do so, but Toby was aware that just banging into a room and asking a lot of tactless questions would only create ill feeling. He wanted to make the man feel safer and more resigned. He noticed that he seemed to have come to his job late.

"Hello," he said awkwardly, "Sorry to disturb you but I came to see if you were alright."

Carl stood up and shifted from foot to foot. "So what, do I drop to my knees or something?" he asked dully, "Do I bow?"

"Er, no. Not really. It depends on what the situation is. _I_ usually shake hands." Toby held out his hand, knowing it was just one of those comforting gestures that people missed when they came Underground. "I am sorry to tell you that most others do bow. If you copy what they do, you cannot offend anyone. Except for the Goblin King. Bow to him and let him speak to you. Try not to let him upset you."

Carl shrugged and looked around. There were two chairs by the window and he waved to them. "You can sit if you want."

Toby looked at the chair and grimaced. "I have a better idea," he suggest peaceably, "Would you like to see the Castle and the Goblin City? I can help you understand the people a little." He noted the reluctance. "I know this is difficult for you. But I am human too and I empathize."

Brown eyes- and didn't they remind him of another fae pair- widened in surprise and relief and then Carl latched on to him with something akin to desperation as he began to babble in spurts. Toby was disconcerted but recovered fairly quickly, letting him talk as much as he wanted before leading him out. The only time he stopped the other man was to firmly introduce him to Gibil.

"This is Gibil," he said simply, "He is a goblin. You will see a lot of them around here, sincethis is the Castle of the Goblin King and the goblins serve him with complete loyalty. They keep this Castle in perfect condition. Gibil is a friend of mine, however. Gibil, this is Carl Jenkins."

"Mr. Jenkins," the goblin said, bowing to him with perfect gravity, "Me is happy to be of service."

Carl's jaw dropped but he muttered a thank you and Toby considerately took him away with a smile and a nod at Gibil. Gibil went away happily enough to find Jareth and tell him all about the little encounter. Since that discussion, he told Jareth everything, and he told Toby everything except that he also told Jareth. It worked. It was a complex system, but it had its uses. It kept Gibil alive, for one thing, and smelling of anything but the Bog.

More than once, Carl shook his head in complete disbelief and asked if it was a dream. "It's too weird," he said distrustfully, "How do you get used to it? Where are all the computers and televisions?"

"In the Aboveground," Toby replied honestly, "We prefer to keep them there. Most of the races are intelligent but goblins need to be given simple tasks. Complex machinery confuses them. Besides, merfolk, fire sprites and centaurs would have physical trouble with mechanical things."

"Cen-centaurs?"

"Yes. Torsos of humans and bodies of horses. We should see a few in the Goblin City."

Carl settled for another shake of the head. Brown eyes staring inwardly and his hands dug deep into his pockets, he looked the picture of dejection.

Toby wracked his brains to think of something to say. "I hope your family will not miss you too much," seemed a stupid thing to say but it was all he had. Short of beginning a lecture on the innumerable differences between the Underground and Aboveground, he was stuck.

The brown head shook in even more dejection. "No. I haven't spoken to my folks in years. Not since I came out."

Came out? Toby tried to comprehend it and couldn't quite drag his mind to the necessary places. The vague sense of wondering must have shown on his face because Carl snorted and held out the crystal he drew from his pocket.

"Came out?" he repeated, "Told everyone I was gay?"

Toby understood this part. He didn't converse with humans very much, but everyone knew gay was slang for homosexual. It was general knowledge now, and people had always thought they had to use human terms with him, even though he usually didn't get some of them himself. Or didn't remember them. "Oh. I am sorry; I did not realize."

"That I was gay?"

"That you were not on speaking terms with your parents," Toby clarified, "It must be hard. I have not spoken to my parents in years either."

"Oh. I guess His Majesty wouldn't let you just say hello a few times, huh?"

Toby stifled chuckle. "Actually, no. My parents died and Jareth brought me down here."

"Who's Jareth?"

"The Goblin King."

"You know him?"

There were several ways Toby could answer that. He could be flippant and say, "_No one_ knows the Goblin King," in a suitably mysterious voice. Or he could shrug and turn the conversation around to something less fraught with difficulty. He could even, should he so want to, laugh lightly and say very little. "He is my guardian," he settled, "He saved me from the car accident that killed my parents and brought me here to live with his mother."

"He has a mother?"

"Of course. Why do you think he wouldn't?"

"I don't know. It just seems strange, all these people walking around with magic. Elves and fairies and centaurs. I can't quite imagine what a baby centaur looks like."

"A foal, you mean?" Toby smiled and shook his head, "They are born like foals and kept in safe places until their backs and legs are strong enough to carry them."

"Okay. That makes sense. So you're, what- a Prince?"

"Oh no! We have no actual royalty here. Just the Goblin King and a few titled nobles. We do not work on any hierarchy, you see." Toby couldn't see the spark of recognition anywhere on Carl's face. So he took the time to sit them both down and explain a few things to him. He told him about Jareth and the way the Labyrinth worked, he told him about what happened to the Wished-aways and he told him a little about the way that the Underground worked.

The talk obviously turned to other, more personal, topics. Toby didn't answer very much but Carl chattered anyway, out of his depth and trying very hard to relate to someone in this harsh new world. Toby listened, heard all about Donnie and the world he hadn't seen since his parents' death, and he wondered a little of what it would be like to live up there.

By the time night fell, Toby realized what day it was. He handed Carl over to Gibil, sent his excuses to His Majesty King Jareth and to the Lady Pandora, asking to be excused for the evening on the grounds of tiredness. He slept like a log for most of the night but woke up at three in the morning with a clear head and a strange sense of calm.

So he would be adopted very soon and in another few months even his educating would be at an end. The Lady Pandora would turn him over to one of the guides, those whose specialized job it was to guide humans in the act of conversion. Ten to twelve months after that and he would be fae. And the Lady's son. That last sounded nice- he would have a family again and he had always thought of Pandora as his surrogate mother in any case. Familiarity would be a bit hard- Toby hadn't used the term 'mother' for over fifteen years- but he could work on it.

The thing to fear, as the mortal's irritatingly rational mind rolled out, was his siblings. And not _both_ his siblings, just the one brother. Good brothers did not share the memory of good sex, at least not sex with each other. And good brothers did not have fights where they treated each other like hostile enemies. Moreover, good brothers generally had some sense of trust in each other. Jareth had been very quick to draw sword against him. Though, now that Toby thought of it, from the way that Jareth spoke of Dieter, he would probably have done the same for his natural brother.

Which left Toby in a predicament, one that he felt just a little guilty for being in. The thing was, he didn't want Jareth as his brother. They would make horrible brothers! And while they could certainly pretend for the general public and do whatever they wanted in private, Toby was a little too honest to be reduced to that. That was the coward's way out, as Franja would have told him.

By the time dawn broke, Toby was a little clearer in his mind. He had settled with being a coward. There was no other way for it. Even _if_ he decided to fall in love with Jareth in one day- and he was reasonably certain that he wasn't already there yet- there was no chance that Jareth would reciprocate. Oh, they liked each other well enough. They challenged each other. They were attracted to each other. But in love? No fear of that!

The mortal spent another day with Carl, finding him a little more comfortable, a little less talkative. Like most humans, the vast magnificence of the Underground proved too fascinating against the cynicism of the world Above. In another four years, Carl might find the Underground restrictive, but by then he would have converted and he would have begun to make a life for himself. For now, fascination would keep him sane.

They talked some more and this time Toby took him down to the City. Carl met the elvish healer, got unceremoniously drenched with soapy water from an upstairs window and got asked by a fire sprite if he could take his head off. By the time they returned to the Castle at the end of the day, Toby was quite certain that Carl would be alright. Donnie wasn't forgotten, but even those memories faded in time. At least, the memories would not fade, but the need would.

Toby was counting on it. He had, as Beran called it, an agenda.

Jareth was in his study when Toby found him, tallying up the numbers of challengers for the past year and clicking his tongue because the numbers were dropping. "Too few," he mumbled, "Much too few."

"Jareth?"

"Hmmm? Come in! Stop lurking in doorways."

Toby raised an eyebrow, but smiled because those irate words were all bark with no bite. Jareth glanced up from the ledger just long enough to show the humour in his eyes before bending over his task again. A moment later, the slender right hand picked up a thin sheaf of papers- perhaps four in all- and held it out.

"The terms of your adoption. You can read them now," Jareth said seriously, "Or you can read them before signing. Either way, you will have to read them."

Toby took the papers and began but got stuck halfway through the first paragraph. He had determined not to think of the adoption until such time as he was confronted with the document. And now was too early for it. His mind rejected knowing and he put it down. "I trust you to know what you are doing," he dismissed, "How long will you take?"

"Do we have plans?"

"The last night, Jareth."

The pen was put down and the Goblin King finally looked up. "Ah," he said simply. Leaning back in his seat, completely expressionless and absolutely enquiring.

"The Underground celebrates the end of an occasion as much as it celebrates a beginning," Toby pointed out, "We end tonight."

This time Jareth began to smirk. "I detect a trace of nostalgia for something that has lasted less than a year. Or even regret, perhaps, that it has to end at all."

Toby offered him a crooked smile, far beyond the point where he needed to defend himself to Jareth. "I am not in love with you," he nodded, "But I might miss you. Just a little. The sex at least."

The smirk widened and Jareth positively gloated as his ego sat up and took notice. "It was rather good."

"Stop patting your own back. Have you forgotten it was a joint venture?"

Jareth laughed and stood up, stretching before shutting his ledger and tossing it into a box somewhere. The pen got put back in its case and he shuffled papers around into messy piles that no one else really ever understood before jerking his head to the door with a silent order. "I believe you have a celebration in mind," he explained wickedly.

Toby had. He had given Gibil certain orders, made certain plans and if Jareth seemed so open to the idea, he was happy to carry them out. Remembering the first time he had walked that exact route, he took the fae up the stairs and down the corridors to that original suite. The Goblin King's suite, where no one would dare to disturb them. Led him in and shut the door and locked it from the inside just to be certain. Took him through the dark, cold room with its covers on the furniture and across to the bedroom.

Which was, as he had asked Gibil to ensure, awash in a blaze of firelight.

It was a piece of romantic nonsense but he indulged himself just once. He knew that Luka had done it for him, and while the practical side of him had wondered about setting fire to the Lady's palace with all the hearth fire and candles, the soft core of him was enchanted.

The Goblin King said nothing, even though he looked around with something like amusement mixed with approval. "A year ago," he commented, "I would have imagined you to treat even this as just another task to be completed. I imagine you would have waited until everyone was in bed, would have approached your lover and said the right thing, and then would have taken him to your bed. Now… look at this."

Toby looked and felt a little embarrassed at being analysed so much. He was prepared to do things, but he didn't want them commented on. Appreciated, yes, but not commented on. He moved up and tilted the pointed chin up to sweep a long look over 'his lover's' face. And then, when he had meticulously memorized every flaw and perfection, he kissed him. Thoroughly. Even if it were not rushed or passionate. Not yet. He kissed him slowly, savouring the way Jareth's mouth and tongue moved in practised harmony with his. Kissed him to feel the way they blindly angled their heads without needing to experiment.

They eventually broke for air.

The barest bloom of pink had seeped into Jareth's face, staining his lips and his cheeks and the skin where Toby's stubble had scraped against his face. The mortal wondered if he should have shaved first. But Jareth didn't seem to care. Indeed, he looked avidly interested at the rare experience, lifting a soft hand to feel the burr against his fingertips.

Soft fingertips. Hard fingers. Just skin on bone. Slipping across his cheek and into his hair and then down his neck to feel the difference in texture. Dexterously beginning to undo buttons, fumbling a little and squinting in the nearness and shifting light. Belatedly realizing that Toby's shirt was still tucked into his trousers and muttering something in frustration as he pulled the tail out and then continued to undo a few more buttons.

Toby let him. He didn't want to make the evening anything other than it was. And it could go so many ways! All ways, however, would lead to the next morning and an end to these pleasant meetings. So he placed the barest tips of his thick fingers just under Jareth's strong chin and raised his face again, taking him into another long kiss. This one was more passionate. The shirt came off while they were about that.

Jareth was a little stunned to feel the tip of a sharp knife ghost down his back. He stiffened and drew his mouth away with a gasp, blinking to clear his gaze as he looked up in warring uncertainty and anger.

"Trust me?" Toby asked casually.

"Should I?"

"Your choice."

Jareth shrugged and held still. "I trust everyone. Trust does not refer to blindness. I do not _think_ you will use that knife on me, if you are asking."

The mortal just grinned a devil's knowing grin, learned from the male standing in the circle of his arms, and his hands slashed.

The shirt came off easily but Jareth just shook his head ruefully. "Dramatics," he said severely, "Far too many dramatics. And you have ruined my shirt. What am I to wear out of here?"

"Perhaps I should use the knife on the rest of your clothing," Toby mused, actually letting the knife run carefully over a curve, hands following to squeeze possessively. "It seems a shame to keep this hidden."

"Yes, well, the Underground is not that enlightened." The knife wentto far too intimate a place and Jareth yelped and jerked, pushing into Toby to escape it. "Put that knife down!"

Toby laughed and dropped it to the floor, kicking it away so that it clattered under the bed. He pulled his lover in the same direction and sat down on the edge.

As usual, undressing was not always about an elegant striptease. They undressed casually enough, pulling off boots and breeches and everything else. As a last thought, Jareth did the unthinkable- he took off his medallion as well and placed it on the nightstand. He said nothing about it, and Toby knew better than to ask. It was a telling gesture, however. Without his powerstone to act as a catalyst to draw the chaos magic, Jareth's magical abilities were very small and easily drained. Toby was bigger than him, stronger than him, and in a show of physical strength he had the better of him. Jareth was not completely at his mercy, but it was close enough to make the mortal realize that Jareth was letting the night be a special one.

He drew him close between his knees and looked up at him. Looked up until Jareth leaned down and cupped his face in his hands and brushed butterfly-gentle kisses across his mouth. Toby used the moment o trace blunt nails up the arched back, barely letting them skim flesh. Tickling, more than scratching. And he struck gold. Jareth wriggled. Toby did it again and got the same response, laughing quietly at Jareth's expense, even though he knew the Goblin King was only allowing his body to respond in such a manner. But he repeated it until Jareth pulled away and climbed into the bed, lying down in a mock huff.

He had, however, lain down on his side, looking up from below his seemingly dropped lashes to watch Toby creep up beside him and watch him. A heavy hand landing on his shoulder, then rising to cup his jaw, and then sliding into his hair.

"You really are beautiful," Toby said aloud.

That rang alarm bells very clearly in Jareth's mind and he gave up the pretence at coyness to frown slightly. "I have told you…"

"I know, I know. But beauty is not perfection. It is not in the eye of the beholder either, I can promise you that. And you are imperfect. I know that. But imperfections only makes you more real, more tangible. Not some carved statue standing in a marble hall, but alive. Am I making any sense?"

Jareth was having just a little trouble breathing. He had set out at the start of this year to teach the mortal how to be more open to his instincts and his follies. He had set out to teach him the vulgarities of life, to show him the sensuality present in every little gesture. It was unfair that his lessons, so well taught, should now be used against him. He shut his eyes again and let his body go limp, allowing the moment to carry him away.

"Turn on your stomach for me," Toby said quietly.

Jareth didn't argue; he simply followed through with it. The illusion of submission, of softness, remained just that- an illusion. Toby had seen him at his worst and he knew what the Goblin King was capable of. The magic in those delicate hands could bring down the Castle on top of them.

The only thought humming through the air was the thought that this was the end. The Last Night. The educating might continue, but it would be the last time that they met in this way.

Toby rubbed the skin on the fae's back, easing out the knotted tension and sensitizing the skin. "Why did you agree?" he asked, "To the Lady's request?"

"It was the right thing to do." Jareth's voice was muffled. "You are my mother's child as surely as I am."

"Brothers, then."

"Brothers."

"Like Dieter?"

"Hopefully nothing like that fool. But yes, brothers."

The mortal leaned down, brushing his mouth against Jareth's ear. "Not for tonight, however. Not now."

Jareth nodded and looked around. A quick kiss, straining the cords in his neck as he pressed closer to enjoy it, and he lay back down on his stomach and closed his eyes. His legs were nudged apart and he allowed it. They were angled on the bed as if to bring him to a kneeling position and that confused him a little but he allowed that too. And then thick, long fingers pressed in, releasing a moan from his throat.

Toby wasn't trying to be a tease. He didn't spend long moments caressing rapidly heating skin or velvet flesh. He wanted something in particular, something precise. And Jareth needed to reach a certain point in a certain way before he could accomplice it. But every wanton sound proclaimed the fae was closer, every wanton toss of that blond head said the fae was almost there. "Ready?"

"Yesss…" hissed out, more of a statement than an answer to anything.

"Jareth, stay with me. Don't let go just yet." Toby knelt back and sidled closer, adjusting Jareth's hips in his lap.

Jareth shifted his head on the pillow and arched just a little, only settling himself back down when a hand landed squarely on his back and forced the issue. "Spoilsport," was his grumble.

And there it was. Toby laughed. He couldn't help himself. In less than two seconds, Jareth's fluid voice had shifted from helplessly aroused to perfectly modulated. Who the hell else could be so- so… at peace with his needs? "Relax," he urged, "I think you will like this one." He entered him very slowly; making sure his lover felt every aborted movement, felt every centimetre as it disappeared into him. He _wanted_ him at that level of awareness. "Are you alright?"

"I swallowed my tongue."

"Pity," Toby commented, laughing again, "I am in no position to suck it back out."

"For pity's sake, hurry up! Get on with it!"

"I never knew you to be so demanding."

"Only when my needs are not met," Jareth quipped, "Are you moving or shall I?"

"You would find it very hard," Toby replied serenely, "You see, in this position, we neither of us can move properly. Actually, I'm supposed to say that when I finally get you the way I want you. Right now _I_ can still move. But you can't."

Jareth seemed strangely silent for a long moment and then the slender hips pulled away and pushed back. Toby suddenly understood what Jareth meant about swallowing his tongue; his own was thick and sticking to the roof of his dry mouth. He shook his head and dug his fingers into Jareth's hips, the pain stopping that agonizing rocking motion before it became too much.

"What now?" Jareth was getting very impatient. It hurt and his body was trying to reject the intruder. It always did before the pleasure came. The sooner someone started moving the better.

In answer, Toby leaned forward, pushed with one hand on the small of his back and used the other to pull gently on his shoulder. The Goblin King sat up very, very slowly, whimpering once in shock as the hands refused to let him quicken the pace. The only time he was allowed to stop that relentless adjustment was when his back finally met a warm, lightly haired chest.

"Like it?"

He tried to say something and couldn't remember what it was and whether he had succeeded.

"Don't keep your feet under you, Jareth. Just kneel over me." He forced the issue and then growled in satisfaction. "Fine. Now… do you like it?"

"Let me move," Jareth pleaded.

Ever the dramatic, Toby noted. "Try moving," he advised.

Jareth sighed with relief and used the muscles in his tensed thighs to pull himself off as far as he was able and then dropped himself back down. A jolt of sticky sweetness swamped him and he was gone, sinking into the flood as his body assumed a mind of its own and left him to flounder in its wake.

Toby wasted no time in wrapping his right arm around Jareth's abdomen. "Does it feel good?"

Jareth nodded quickly and shuddered. "More."

"Not yet." The other arm came up on the Goblin King's left side and looped over his chest, gripping at his right shoulder in a tight clench.

Jareth cried out and struggled for a minute, breaking his rhythm in frustration with his new restrictions. He couldn't move enough. The distance he could go was only enough to whet his appetite. But the arms only pressed tighter and pulled him closer; forcing him to take only the pleasure he was given. The more he struggled, the more he was aware of the warmth behind him, of the fine hairs that rubbed against his shoulder blades like a million tiny little hands. His back was sensitive at the best of times, but after Toby's ministrations…

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

"Where did you think this up?" Jareth gasped, not sure if he should be angry or awe-struck, "Bloody torture, this is!"

"But a nice one. Do you like it?"

This time the laugh broke on a sob halfway through. "Does it feel as if I want to get away?"

"I'm not sure. Tell me what you do feel and I might understand."

"Shut up and fuck me, brat."

Toby chuckled and licked a reddening ear. Knowing that Jareth was squirming on top of him and guessing the reason, Toby eased his knees apart, knowing full well that Jareth's legs would be forced to part as well.

"Bastard," Jareth accused, "You're doing this deliberately."

"Of course," Toby admitted frankly, "I mean to keep this memory for the rest of my life. And the view from here is not going to be forgotten for a while, I promise you."

Jareth got his revenge again and again and again… until even Toby was beginning to drown.

It didn't last very long from there. Jareth threw his hands up and back, clasping them behind Toby's head as he laid his own head back on the mortal's broad shoulder. He was moulded to the young man and for the first time in a long time it was more than just the eventual orgasm. He was close, so close. He didn't even need the hand that slipped down from his abdomen to caress so hard. But the hand had done so and since his ability to do anything more than cry out and stutter unintelligently had left him, he had to content himself with screwing his eyes shut over the intense pleasure and whipping his head from side to side, trying so hard to escape it even though his body screamed for more.

Toby wasn't that far behind. Jareth's body was a delight at the best of times, but at the current moment he was so agonizingly hot to the touch and so pliable that he cascaded rather than moved. Quickly, feeling the last dregs of control snap, Toby pushed himself upright on his knees, taking Jareth with him.

The Goblin King whined, his body stretched to its limits. Toby's arm kept him upright and off balance. His own arms kept him reaching upwards and back. He _was_ off-balance, completely at Toby's mercy and helplessly restricted by Toby's body. It was this final feeling of complete dependence that made him groan harshly as he fell backwards against his lover, entire body spasming as the lightening threaded through his muscles.

Toby followed suit and lost his head for the few seconds it took for his body to bury itself deep into the fae. He sucked hard on a white stretch of skin as he collapsed back on his heels. Jareth just draped bonelessly backwards against him, silent and breathless.

"Jareth?"

A barely audible croak might or might not have been heard at this point.

"Are you alright?"

A slow nod on his shoulder and then a blond head shifted restlessly, turning slightly to fit better into the angle between neck and shoulder. "Fine." It was so soft, so vulnerable.

Toby eased away and got them both lying down, cradling Jareth as close as was humanly possible. It had worked. Toby was satisfied. He filed it away in his memory for all those times he would wonder about maybes. Jareth, however… the mortal fretted over what Jareth would do now. It wasn't as if something like this would never have happened before. But with someone that had grown so close? Because Toby did dare to think they had grown close. Would Jareth pretend it had never happened? Or would he simply become cold and distant, pulling away now that he had shown too much?

"You're thinking," Jareth rumbled.

"I was wondering about tomorrow," Toby sighed.

Stiffening, the slender body pulled away to the other side of the bed. "We follow through with the way we have planned things. Why?"

"I just wonder."

"It will not hurt, you know."

"I know. Did- did you like it?"

Long fingers ghosted over his face and then Jareth leaned over him to drop a last, quick kiss on Toby's mouth. "It was beautiful."


	64. Try

Author's Note: This is the final chapter. Thank you all so much for all your interest and encouragement. It could never have happened without the reviewers and their support. I hope it was enjoyable and I hope this ends as well as I would like to think it did.

Author's Note2: I've never had to apologize for a shorter chapter, but I have to point out that this chapter is shorter than the previous one. That said, it's still long enough. Enjoy.

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Toby woke up in his own bed, still clad in the shirt he had forgotten to take off when he stumbled back to his room. They had agreed on that; no point beginning this new phase with scandal and stories about secretly sleeping together. The goblins couldn't help but gossip. It was in their blood.

Dawn was just breaking and Toby elected to continue with the schedule he had been falling in and out of since he had begun this peculiar year. He got up, got dressed and took up his sword. It had been mended from its fall down the stairwell, but Toby got the feeling the weapon was still upset about that. He had attempted to explain, naturally, but the metal was… well, unbending. It still refused to balance properly in his hand. But he made his way out. No one else was out in the training pen apart from a few sleepy-eyed goblins that greeted him and trudged along their way. The sounds of the rooster crowing and the world coming to consciousness hummed quietly just below the surface, carried faintly on the cool breeze.

Toby slung his old brown jacket over the fence and drew the sword. For a long while his eyes and ears and thoughts were focused upon the shining blade, letting nothing and no one come between that intense concentration. Now, more than ever, he needed to perfect his skills. He would be adopted by one of the most powerful families in the Underground. Even discounting Jareth, the family had always been at the forefront of Underground politics. Hence the title. Jareth had a title too, though no one ever used it. Only on formal occasions would he be announced as both King of the Underground and titled Lord.

Toby found it all singularly depressing.

He never had aspired to being someone important. Perhaps someone useful, but not important. Being seen was not his delight. He liked the discreet organization of little details that no one ever saw, drawing pleasure from knowing that everyone just assumed these things existed. It gave him a laugh. That sense of humour had got him into a lot of trouble before.

"You look grim. Is something wrong?"

Toby looked up with a start and then looked down. Braan. The mountain sprite was looking up at him, crossbow and bolts hung around his sturdy person. Braan seemed to read the scepticism because he smiled and shrugged, "I cannot have my skills shown up by a lady of leisure. I would be redundant."

"I am sure King Gildred relies on you for more than your weaponry," Toby answered as a matter of course. And then his sense of humour kicked in, "That being said, I would certainly practise to reach the Lady's high standard."

Braan did him the honour of laughing heartily at the joke. And not the controlled titter of practised politicians, who polished their manners in the mirror every morning, but the genuine laugh of someone enjoying a good jest. "I shall endeavour to match her," he chuckled, nodding and making for the targets set at the other end of the yard.

Toby watched him go and shook his head. Any who said the other races were excluded from popular positions were clearly blind. Yes, people wanted to like pretty people, and yes, dwarves and sprites and goblins were not the prettiest of races, but they had their jobs, their place in society. Fire sprites rarely attended the Council because they could not be bothered. They existed merely to have fun. They didn't even procreate as the other races, seemingly growing from another's discarded limb with no real reason why. The fieries. They still spoke of Sarah in vague remembrance as the girl who cheated by throwing someone else's head.

Hoggle still talked of Sarah too. But not very often. They didn't meet very often. Hoggle was busy with the Labryinth gates. It took him a year to make sure every brick in the wall was in order, and when the year was up, he began from the very beginning. A coward, was Hoggle, but one who feared what he feared enough to do a better job than anyone else. Hoggle had already returned to his post, refusing to stay more than was necessary in Jareth's close presence. They hated the other, since far before Sarah. But Sarah had made things worse, since Hoggle hated how Jareth had treated her and Jareth hated that Sarah had made a place in her life for a dwarf and rejected him.

Toby didn't much care either way. Sarah was dead. Any duty to her that he might have had was relieved the moment she swallowed those pills. He barely remembered her. At one time he had clung to this last bit of his family history, but no more. Not when her shadow loomed so ominously over the rest of his life.

He went to the stables and put down his sword, holding out his hand to stroke Serenity. She was pacing in her box and whinnied to greet him, tossing her head and blooming dark charcoal in the shelter of her stall.

"What should I tell him, Serenity?" Toby whispered, "The truth? He does not want to hear it."

She nosed at his pockets, unconcerned for his trouble but wanting some treat.

"_What_ do I tell him, in any case?" he continued, "I really do not love him. We argue and we fight and there are times we barely tolerate the other. I despise some of his ways and I know some of mine are maddening to him. Yet… it is none of it really serious. We always seem to make do, somehow."

She snuffled harder at his coat when the treat was not forthcoming.

"You really are not listening, are you?" he accused, "Silly mare. Never mind. It is none of your concern. Beran is taking you back to his estate for a few months, hmmm? That should settle you."

Serenity snorted once and left him alone, bored completely with his attitude. She pretended not to notice him, pacing in her stall as she wavered between sulking and making do with the hay provided. Toby just smiled and watched her, taking in the grace of her long limbs and her sleek elegance. The grey wings were furled tight to her body, slightly damp from the morning dew that rested in her mane and tail.

He left her there, making his way back to his room. Gibil had already drawn him a bath in the bathroom down the hall and he fumbled only long enough to select what to wear. Considering the occasion, he should by rights wear something suitable. But he didn't want to make a fuss. The Lady would, he just knew it. It made him smile but she was so excited. He got his shaving things out and decided to just wear shades of russet and black. Sombre but different, as befitted the occasion.

Breakfast was noisy considering the peace of his morning so far.

"Toby! How did you sleep, dear?" Pandora gave him a big smile and offered him a kiss.

He accepted and sat down, resigned to being the centre of attention. "I slept very well, My Lady," he said.

She leaned forward and took his hand, holding it in both of her weathered ones, her smile lovely as she looked earnestly at him. "This is what you want?"

He didn't need to think about that. Not once. He already had in the two days before. He wanted to remain a part of the Lady's life, to be to her what he had always been. If there were certain other conditions entailed to it, then so be it. He would adjust. "I am honoured to be asked," he murmured, "And I can think of nothing better."

"Well, said," Gildred commented, putting down his spoon, "Your educator has taught you well."

"Jareth?" Three out of the eight people burst into peals of laughter. Elban spoke first, wiping his eyes, "Jareth? Manners?" He set himself off again.

Toby bit his lip to hide the grin that threatened to break out, "The Lady has always been my first teacher," he insisted, his eyes dancing, "And the best."

"I am wounded by that, I really am," sounded sosoftly in his ear he jumped.

Jareth entered less than a second later, grinning like the devil himself and blandly evading the queries as to what the private joke he and Toby seemed to be sharing. He sat down, looked askance at the food on the table and gratefully sipped at his viraag.

Elban and Beran shared a discreet glance of knowing, both having noticed the unconscious give and take this time. Jareth entered and sat down beside his sister, but he nodded at Toby even if it was with a mocking nonchalance. Toby wordlessly poured another glass of viraag and passed it to him and Jareth took it without question and drank, in his turn passing on the sugar for the porridge the minute the mortal began serving himself.

"Sandalwood," Elban said suddenly, getting it.

The table stopped and stared at him in surprise.

"I, er, thought I smelt sandalwood," he excused.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it. There is no sandalwood in the room. The smell interferes with the food. Mrs. Bonn would quit her job if I dared."

Toby chuckled and nodded. "She might make an exception," he murmured, "If I took the blame and announced your innocence."

"Your unselfish attitude gives me great heart," Jareth mocked, "Eat, brat. You need your strength to sign that document. I just extended it by another five pages."

Elban groaned, Toby sighed and the rest of the table laughed.

"I should charge you," Elban threatened, "I should! I have read that thing so many times my eyes blur the moment I think of adoptions."

"I suggest you break the habit," Jervohl teased, "You might have to sign one of those yourself fairly soon."

The forest sprite spluttered, choked and went bright red. "I b-beg your pardon?"

"Surely you and Beran want children some day?" Pandora asked, "I know you have your business to run but neither of you are getting much younger. Starting a family soon would be best for the both of you."

Jareth grimaced to himself and shook his head.

"As should my son," Pandora said louder, catching that distaste from the corner of her eye, "Jareth and I have a pending discussion on his state of unattachment."

Gildred looked delighted. "Surely a broken heart can mend with the right person," he suggested gravely, "What you need is a wonderful female to make your life a joy and a privilege. Someone who can give you children and be there when your world is dark."

Jareth looked nauseous and he carefully put down his glass and leaned away from it. "Thank you," he grunted, "I think I shall pass."

"Sarah was a long time ago, Jareth," Pandora broke in, this time wholly serious, "And we all know she meant a lot to you." She hesitated to say more with Gildred and his two generals there. "Be that as it may, your life should go on. Whoever it is, I want you to be happy."

"You," Jareth said tellingly, "Only want grandchildren! And you are not getting them from me."

Jervohl crowed with mirth. "But Jareth! You would make such a devoted father."

Toby bit his lip harder but this time the laughter slipped out in any case. Jareth glared at him. "The only time I saw you with a child, was when one had been wished away. I swear to you, Jervohl, no one could have been gentler or more considerate. I barely recognized him!"

"I shall remember that," Jareth threatened, "And I will have my revenge."

Toby smiled at him and shook his head. "I shall look forward to that." And he meant it. It was, after all, the only way they could look forward to interacting. Those peculiar soft moments that still seemed so surreal would never happen again because the family were sensual but not with each other. They snapped at each other, and they harassed each other and they insulted each other, but they meant it in love. Toby didn't quite have the hang of it, but he would learn. He was confident of that.

Jareth seemed to understand because he nodded once and let his gaze linger longer than usual on the pleasant face with its plain features and its honesty. The night had been harder for him. He was letting go of his Sarah, for once and for all. It had hurt, and he had spent his restless energy flying in the Aboveground, sitting on the tree outside of Sarah's old bedroom and thinking of both the brother and the sister.

It was all so annoying because the rumours were that he had bedded both. He hadn't. Seduction was all very well but he didn't seduce minors. But he _had_ seduced the brother. And Toby had responded so well Jareth could only feel a little guilty for the first time that he had completely turned that perfectly ordered, quiet life into one of confusion and chaos. He had meant well mostly, but Toby could have lived just as well in his oblivion. There would have been nothing wrong with that.

But it had been such a crime! The brother of someone so sparkling, so alive- staidly occupied with schedules and boring common sense. Sarah would have dreamed half her life away if she had come down to the Underground. She would have been an elf, with that stubborn ruthlessness and her blatant disregard for any rules but her own. And then Toby had stood there and been like anyone else and Jareth had made his mind up. Well, he had succeeded. A little too well if the last night was any indication.

Jareth was still just a little sore.

Elban coughed behind his hand and those mismatched eyes snapped out of the hold of those blue ones and blinked rapidly in dawning reality. "We should finish the signing," Elban proposed, "We leave tomorrow morning."

Toby nodded and rose too, wiping crumbs away and steeling himself to go through with it. He wanted it even less, he had to admit. But for Pandora and for the lack of options, he could do it.

Jareth got up and led them out, taking them up to his study. He met a few goblins on the way that he stopped and snapped out orders to. The closer they approached, the more sober his manner became. By the time he reached the study door, he wore a mildly forbidding expression and didn't stop to exchange niceties with either Elban or Toby. "Here are the documents. I made no changes in what we already had, but I added a few more clauses and a few conditions. Toby, to summarize, one of the conditions is that you will accept the duty of running my mother's estate and you will have full responsibility for that. I will not interfere. But if the estate falls in ruin, no one else but you will be blamed."

Toby nodded.

"Next. You will take the Lady's place in politics when she eventually dies. Until then, you are her spokesperson unless she is too ill to be concerned with such matters. Do you accept?"

"I accept."

"Jareth?" Elban looked up and waved the pages at him. "They seem in order. You seem to have said nothing new."

"Just loopholes," Jareth agreed, "For those that might fight this and for Toby. The adoption is completely tightened, Toby For the last time, are you certain?"

Toby wasn't. He wasn't certain in the least. But what else could he do? How else could he respond but to say yes? There was no other way; either way he gave something up. If he agreed to this document, he gave up any hope of the slightest maybe with Jareth. If he said no, he gave up the only family he had left. What was he to say? "Yes. Absolutely certain."

Jareth nodded and whirled around in a flurry of movement, grabbing up the pen and scribbling his signature onto the end of every page. It showed that he had read every page and approved everything upon it. At the last, he looked up, caught the determined gleam in blue eyes and bent his head again. He completed the sentence easily enough, and signed it. Elban took the pen from him, reading over Jareth's elegant script before witnessing it.

They both looked at Toby.

The mortal came forward and held out his hand wordlessly for the pen. Elban handed it to him with a timid smile. The tension in the room was beginning to feel claustrophobic. And then Jareth broke it- "Could you excuse us, Elban?" He didn't give a reason.

The forest sprite thankfully made a dash for it, ears straining to catch any sound of dissent that Toby might make. But Toby made none and finally he was on the other side of the door and glad for that enviable position.

Inside the room, the slam of the closing door had broken whatever remained of the spell that froze the two males left inside.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Jareth held the papers out, newly signed and witnessed.

"Yeah." Toby wouldn't say it, of course, he wouldn't.

"You will have to swear allegiance to me as a citizen of the Underground."

Toby sighed and ran a hand through his growing blond hair. "Jareth, haven't I proved my allegiance yet? I've sworn to protect you with life and limb for as long as I live. What more can I do?"

But Jareth was staring keenly at him, concern overflowing in his eyes, half-sitting back on the edge of the desk with his long legs stretched out to balance him. The papers still in his hand, clearly forgotten.

"The papers," Toby evaded quietly, trying to stop that look. What else was he to do? The Goblin King had not spoken to him of more and the photograph of Sarah continued to stand on his desk, just behind him where Toby could see it.

Jareth raised an eyebrow and stood up. He lifted the papers in question, read them over and then looked from his signature to Toby. "Do you really want to be my adopted brother?" he asked seriously.

Toby didn't bat an eyelid. Jareth was looking at him with so much worry for him in those eyes. Had he ever looked at Sarah like that? Probably. Probably when she wasn't looking. "No," he allowed, "But what else is there for me?"

The concern melted into a look of the frighteningly hopeful sort. Jareth was actually looking at him as if he was uncertain about something but was taking a risk. "There are ways to get your citizenship," he informed him, "Your status as my former ward alone will grant you one. You do not need a family."

"You do not seem to understand me, Sire." Toby took a step closer and tried to explain his situation. "I _feel_ a part of your family. What other option is there for me?"

A slow smile. Not a smirk, but a smile- trailing slowly over the corners of that kissable mouth until it reached up and touched the relief in dual-coloured eyes. "There is another way for that too," Jareth replied.

Toby smiled back but then stopped, his eyes dropping over Jareth's shoulder. He brushed past and moved to the desk, picking up the photograph. "Jareth, I am not going to fight against ghosts and lovers of the past. Sarah was my sister. I would be a fool if I could not see the attraction in that."

"Then you are certainly a fool," Jareth growled, exasperated beyond measure, "Why in this world or the next would I want you to replace Sarah? Her position is irreplaceable."

"Exactly my point. And long ago, she was the one you chose to spend your life with. What will I be? I do not settle for second best."

"Neither do I," Jareth admitted frankly, "And what damned fool told you that you were second best? If it's Luka, I will have him hunted down and thrown straight into the Bog of Eternal Stench and then into an oubliette. Sarah is the only _woman_ I would have chosen to spend my days with. Unfortunately, she decided not to spend any day at all with me and she died. You, however, are a man; you do not mind spending an entire day with me- and a night if I asked it- and you are certainly not dead. The Williams', it seems, are my archilles' heel."

"Which is to say?"

"I cannot guarantee any length of time, but I would like you to… stay longer? Yes."

"I am mortal."

"Not once you have signed another set of citizenship papers that will only take me ten minutes to write. A year from this day, you will have to take a journey through the Labyrinth, earn your powerstone and you choose what magical form you desire to take. After a course of study on the characteristics and lives of each type, of course … under my guidance."

"Of course," Toby said dryly," I suppose it would make no difference to tell you that I want to be a goblin?"

"Not at all," Jareth answered sweetly, smiling a smile that would have suited the purposes of a saint, "Goblins have their advantages. They are gratifyingly quick to take orders." He leaned forward with a conspirational wink. "And they have tremendous stamina."

Toby stifled a laugh. "What about an elf?"

"They love the outdoors," Jareth breezed, "And throwing off the shackles of hypocritically civilized life in favour of free emotions and unbridled passion. You will grow shorter, of course, and I will be much stronger than you."

"The better to hold me down, is that it?"

"Oh, much."

Toby thought a little more. "What about a centaur?"

If anything, Jareth's eyes darkened and his pupils began to dilate. "I never knew you had it in you," he gasped breathlessly, "What an absolutely erotic thought!"

Toby rolled his eyes and groaned to the heavens, reaching a hand to rub the tense knots from his shoulders. "I'm not going to persuade you that this is a bad idea, am I?"

"No. Are you serious about being a centaur?"

"Jareth, get your mind away from bestiality. I do not indulge such passions."

Jareth waved his hands in a mock disappointed gesture, a teasing grin twisting his lips. "Neither do I. I wouldn't be able to handle a stallion, thank you very much. Nor am I interested in one; Serenity will not tolerate it."

"I can see that I will be ordered to be fae." Toby couldn't help but flick a light blond lock of hair off the fae's shoulder.

"Yes."

"My King, still? Even when I warm your bed?"

"No." Jareth grinned disarmingly. "Equals in my bed. Unless you prefer to take another role?" He quirked an expressive eyebrow.

"Only if it makes you happy," Toby sighed, moving closer. He held his hand out and let it be captured by a very greedy tongue.

"You sound like an awful incarnation of the knight in shining armour, Toby."

"Not my fault you pulled me into a fairytale world," the mortal replied reasonably. Jareth didn't answer. "Jareth, you really should get the paperwork done. The sooner this is over, the better for the both of us. We still have to tell your mother."

Jareth shook his head.

Toby waited a minute and then yanked his hand away suddenly. The look on his lover's face was enough to break his heart and make him laugh with triumph, all at once. Jareth couldn't possibly look like that and be playing with him.

"Horrible, horrible man," the Goblin King fumed. He spun around and grabbed up another piece of paper. "I see you mean to be honourable about this. I suppose I should oblige."

"Please do."

"For now, may I add. I am not the obliging sort. Take a seat, Toby."

"Yes, Sire."

"This shouldn't take long."

"No, Sire."

"And on that note- Toby, how would you feel about being appointed my personal bodyguard as well? At least until this day next year?"

"Would it not be a conflict of interest?"

Jareth tossed him an amused grin. "Not at all. I would be completely sure of your loyalty and commitment. And you will be in the perfect position to oversee my every move."

"A chaotic but irrefutable point."

"There is another good point- you can be my voice of reason."

"Who is to say I could be reasonable around you?" Toby asked, laughing at Jareth's profile.

The pen moved smoothly over the paper as Jareth absently tossed off a look of mock dudgeon. "I do not have such a bad influence on people."

Toby stroked the back of a slender neck, feeling a possessive affection sweep through him at just that touch. "None that I would ever regret," he admitted.


End file.
